Sophie kissed his cheek.
“Relax, Boss.”
He groaned.
“I asked you to stop calling me that.”
“Never.”
She took the pastry bag and walked toward the kitchen.
Alex watched her go.
His face softened.
“She looks happy.”
“She is.”
He nodded slowly.
Then looked at me.
“And you?”
Three years earlier, I might have lied.
I might have given him the answer that made things easier.
Instead, I thought about all of it.
The betrayal.
The fear.
The years we lost.
My father's impossible secrets.
Sophie's courage.
The fortune we returned.
The people who had survived because one terrified bride refused to sign her home away.
And I realized happiness wasn't the right word.
It was something quieter.
Something earned.
“I'm free,” I said.
Alex smiled.
“Better than happy?”
“Sometimes.”
He nodded.
Then stepped inside.
I closed the door behind him.
Not because I was afraid of who might be outside.
