Chapter 7 - THE RECOVERY AT PARADISE VALLEY
Six weeks after the attack, the master bedroom at our Paradise Valley estate looked entirely different.
The damaged wall safe had been completely removed, the wall repaired and painted a warm, soft cream. The old rug where Irene had been pinned was gone, replaced by thick, hand-woven wool from New Zealand. High-tech biometric security doors were installed at every entrance to the property, backed by an armed 24/7 private security detail stationed at the front gates.
Irene stood near the floor-to-ceiling glass doors overlooking the backyard pool, wearing a flowing white linen dress. Her bump was clearly visible now—a gentle, unmistakable curve beneath the fabric.
I walked up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist, resting my hands over hers on her stomach.
“How are you feeling today?” I asked, resting my chin on her shoulder.
“The baby is kicking,” she said, a breathless laugh escaping her lips. “He’s got a very strong left foot.”
“He takes after his mother,” I smiled, kissing her neck. “A fighter.”
A soft chime sounded from my phone on the nearby table. It was a formal notice from the Maricopa County Superior Court. Margaret and Carla had officially entered guilty pleas to reduced charges of grand theft and conspiracy to avoid a public jury trial. Margaret had been sentenced to twelve years at the Perryville Women’s Prison; Carla had received seven years.
I didn't feel a surge of victory. I didn't feel a sting of sadness. I felt only an absolute, serene sense of closure.
“Is that from the court?” Irene asked quietly, turning her head slightly.
May you like
“Yes,” I answered. “It’s over, Irene. Permanently. None of them will ever step foot near us, our home, or our child ever again.”
She turned around in my arms, resting her head against my chest, listening to my steady heartbeat. “We built this life, Austin. Just the two of us. And now we get to protect it.”
