Chapter 6 - The Voice of the House
Six months later.
Spring had finally arrived in Port Mercer. The cold rain was gone, replaced by gentle warm breezes that blew the scent of blooming cherry blossoms across the manicured lawns of the Blackwood estate.
The heavy iron gates at the front of the property stood wide open.
Inside the grand dining room, the long mahogany table was covered not with legal documents or shipping ledgers, but with wide platters of fresh sea bass, homemade pasta, and bowls of bright green asparagus.
At the head of the table sat Rosa Gallow, wearing a bright yellow floral dress, her silver hair styled beautifully.
Beside her sat Jamie, showing her a newly rendered 3D animation on his tablet. Rosa was laughing silently, her hands moving with fluid, joyful speed as she critiqued his color choices while passing him a basket of warm garlic bread.
Across the room, Paul—the manager of the Copper Spoon—was sitting uncomfortably on the edge of a high-backed velvet chair, holding a glass of vintage wine with two hands, looking as though he still couldn't believe he had been invited to a Sunday dinner at the Gallow mansion.
"She gave me the Saturday shift," Paul was whispering nervously to Frank, who was standing near the sideboard wearing a light gray suit instead of his dark tactical coat. "She actually got me off the Saturday shift!"
Frank smiled, taking a slow sip of water. "I told you, Paul. Miss Bennett runs this house now."
Near the tall glass doors leading out to the rose garden stood Norah and Victor.
Norah was wearing an elegant dark green dress that caught the spring sunlight, her hair falling softly over her shoulders. Beside her, Victor wore a simple white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, looking more relaxed than anyone in Port Mercer had ever seen him.
He reached down, taking Norah’s hand in his, his fingers intertwining with hers.
"The dock permits were officially approved by the state board this morning," Victor said softly, looking down at her. "The entire logistics operation is fully legitimate now. No Vanes, no quiet payments, no court dates."
"I know," Norah smiled, leaning her shoulder against his arm. "Your mother told me three days ago. She said you finally stopped staying up until three in the morning."
Victor chuckled—a deep, genuine sound that no longer carried any edge of coldness. "She talks too much."
"She has twenty years of catching up to do," Norah reminded him gently.
Victor turned to face her fully. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet-lined mahogany box.
Norah’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart gave a sudden, familiar flutter.
Victor didn't speak right away.
Instead, he raised his left hand.
Over the last six months, he had practiced every night after dinner. His movements were no longer clumsy or hesitant. They were fluid, strong, and filled with a quiet, undeniable grace.
You, Victor signed, his gray eyes locking onto hers with deep, unwavering devotion. My home. Always.
He opened the box, revealing a breathtaking platinum ring set with a brilliant, clear diamond that caught the golden afternoon light.
Norah looked at the ring, then up at his face—at the small scar near his eyebrow, the soft warmth in his eyes, and the ironclad promise that lived in his hands.
She didn't answer with words.
She raised both of her hands, her fingers moving in the quiet, beautiful language that had brought them together in a small diner six months ago.
Yes, Norah signed, a radiant smile illuminating her face. My home. Always.
May you like
From the head of the dining table, Rosa clapped her hands together with a loud, joyful smack, raising her glass of lemon water in a silent toast as Jamie cheered and Paul almost dropped his wine glass onto the Persian rug.
Victor pulled Norah into his arms, kissing her deeply as the warm spring breeze blew through the open doors, filling the once-silent house with the sweet, unmistakable sound of life, love, and laughter.
