Chapter 5 - The Restored Nursery
Upstairs on the second floor, the morning sun streamed through the sheer white curtains of Ellie’s nursery, illuminating a room that looked as if a minor hurricane had been completely reversed.
The cardboard boxes had vanished. Every dress, every stuffed animal, and every book had been meticulously returned to its proper place by the senior household staff under Marianne’s direct supervision.
Ellie sat cross-legged on her soft pink rug, wearing her favorite duck pajamas, carefully taping together the torn pieces of her construction-paper family collage. The glitter glue was dry, and though the paper was creased and scarred from Celina’s stiletto heel, the three stick figures—Daddy, Ellie, and Mommy in our hearts—were securely pieced back together.
The door swung open silently, and Luciano stepped into the room. He had removed his formal suit jacket, rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, looking less like an untouchable corporate monarch and more like a tired, devoted father.
He walked over, kneeling down on the rug beside his daughter.
“Whatcha working on, bug?” Luciano asked softly, resting his hand gently on her dark hair.
Ellie looked up, her big brown eyes beaming with innocent pride. She held up the repaired collage for him to see. “Look, Daddy! I fixed it! My family project is even stronger now because of the tape!”
Luciano felt a thick, emotional lump rise in his throat. He gently took the paper from her small hands, studying the clumsy crayon lines and glitter glue with an reverence he had never shown to a multi-million-dollar shipping manifest.
“It’s the most beautiful artwork in the entire world, Ellie,” Luciano whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled her into a warm, protective embrace, resting his chin against her head. “And nobody is ever going to take this house away from you. Ever.”
“Even the lady in the funny white dress?” Ellie asked quietly, burying her face in his shirt.
May you like
“Especially not her,” Luciano promised, his slate-gray eyes hardening into steel as he stared out the nursery window toward the iron gates of the estate. “She’s gone for good.”
Satisfied, the little girl leaned back against her father’s chest, picking up a pink crayon to add a bright yellow sun in the corner of her drawing.
