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Chapter 8 - The Sunrise Over Chestnut Hill

The sun broke over the Boston skyline the next morning, painting the winter sky in brilliant shades of amber, rose, and gold. The sleet and snow of the previous days melted into sparkling diamonds along the edges of the high iron gates.

Inside the master suite on the third floor, the room was quiet.

Adrian lay on his side, propped up on one elbow, looking down at Claire as she slept peacefully beside him, her head resting comfortably on his chest. Her brown hair, usually pinned into a strict bun, was spread across the white pillows like a silk fan.

A soft knock sounded at the heavy oak door downstairs, followed by the patter of six-year-old feet running down the hallway.

The door to the master suite creaked open.

Lily stood on the threshold, rubbing her eyes in her pink pajamas, clutching her stuffed rabbit in one hand. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw her father and Claire lying together in the massive bed.

Adrian slowly lifted a finger to his lips, giving his daughter a gentle, warning shush.

Lily blinked, her sleepy gray eyes wide with surprise. Then, a slow, radiant smile—the kind of smile Mrs. Gable hadn't seen on the child's face since before her mother passed away—spread across her little face.

Without a word, Lily dropped her rabbit, ran across the thick carpet, and scrambled up onto the side of the bed, crawling right into the middle between them. She threw her small arms around Claire’s waist, burying her face against her shoulder, and then reached out, grabbing Adrian’s hand and pulling it around to hold her other side.

Claire stirred awake, blinking against the morning light. She looked down at Lily, then across at Adrian, whose face was illuminated by the golden dawn.

Adrian looked at Claire, a genuine, unburdened smile breaking across his features—a smile that washed away the last remnants of the iron fortress he had built around his heart.

He tightened his grip, holding both of them close.

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For the first time in years, the Mercer estate wasn't a fortress guarding a ghost.

It was a home.

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