Chapter 9 - The Garden Party
Two months later.
The lawn of the Whitfield estate was decorated with bright yellow balloons, white linen tents, and tables piled high with fresh fruit, cupcakes, and a massive three-tiered birthday cake topped with a sculpted sugar rabbit.
It was Sophia’s third birthday.
Over fifty people filled the gardens—executives, neighbors, doctors from the pediatric hospital, and staff members with their families.
In the center of the lawn, a large wooden playground had been constructed, complete with high swings, a winding slide, and a tiny playhouse painted bright yellow.
Sophia ran across the grass in a white lace dress and shiny red shoes, her dark curls bouncing in the sun. She was chasing three other children, her bright, high laughter echoing through the trees.
I stood near the stone terrace, holding a glass of iced tea, watching her.
Beside me stood Maria. She wore an elegant navy dress, her face radiant, calm, and free from the heavy weight of terror that had haunted her for two years. She was now the official Director of Household Management for the estate and the co-trustee of the newly established Alvarez Educational Fund, which provided scholarships for children of domestic workers across the state.
“She looks so much like Claire today,” Maria said softly, watching Sophia swing on the wooden set.
“She has Claire’s joy,” I agreed, taking a sip of my tea. “And she has your kindness, Maria. Don't ever forget that you gave her that.”
Maria looked at me, her eyes glistening with tears of gratitude. “Thank you for everything, Ethan. For not destroying my life when you had every right to.”
“You didn't destroy my life, Maria,” I said gently, looking at her. “You saved it. If you hadn't brought her to this house... I would still be a dead man walking through an empty palace.”
Sophia came running up the stone steps, her forehead damp with sweat, her cheeks rosy and pink.
“Daddy! Mami!” she gasped, catching her breath. “Look what I found!”
She held out her small hands. Inside her tiny palms sat a small, perfectly rounded gray stone with a white streak running through the middle.
“It’s a magic rock!” she announced proudly. “It makes wishes come true!”
I dropped to one knee in front of her, wiping a speck of dirt off her nose.
“Is that so?” I smiled. “And what did you wish for, little one?”
Sophia put her hands together, held the stone against her chest, and closed her eyes tight.
May you like
“I wished that Daddy, Mami, and Bruno stay here forever,” she declared, opening her eyes wide. “And that we have ice cream for dinner!”
I laughed—a real, booming laugh that echoed off the stone walls of the mansion—and scooped her up into my arms, spinning her around in the bright afternoon sunlight.
