Chapter 5 - The Kingdom under the Sun
The rain stopped at midnight.
By eight o'clock the following morning, the sky over Cold Spring was a pale, polished blue, washed clean by the storm. The sun was rising over the Hudson River, casting long, golden fingers of light across the wet lawns and the green leaves of the oak trees.
I stood on the stone terrace outside the east wing, wearing an old wool sweater and a pair of worn leather boots. I held a mug of black coffee in my hand, watching the steam rise into the cool morning air.
Down at the gate, two black sedans belonging to my mother’s legal team were parked on the shoulder of the road, unable to enter because the heavy iron gates remained locked and guarded by two off-duty state troopers I had hired for private security.
Inside the house, the silence was gone.
From the kitchen down the hall came the sound of pans clinking, radio music playing softly, and Maria’s clear, melodic voice singing a Spanish lullaby as she prepared breakfast.
And from the lawn below the terrace came the sound that had been missing from this estate for thirty years.
A child’s laughter.
Lily was running across the grass in her yellow dress, her small red boots splashing through every puddle she could find. She held a long dandelion stem in her hand, chasing a blue butterfly that was dancing just out of her reach above the wet clover.
She saw me standing on the terrace.
She stopped, her dark ringlets bouncing around her cheeks, her big brown eyes shining with absolute, unfiltered joy in the morning sun.
"EFAN!" she yelled across the lawn. "LOOK! THE BUTTERFLY IS DANCING!"
"I see it, Lily!" I called back, my voice carrying clear across the grass.
I set my coffee mug down on the stone balustrade. I walked down the steps of the terrace, my boots sinking slightly into the soft, rain-soaked earth, and stepped out onto the open lawn.
I didn't think about the board meeting in Manhattan, which was likely descending into chaos as Marcus presented his dismissal motion to my uncle. I didn't think about the Pacific Northwest acquisition, the stock price of Cole Dynamics, or the long list of people who were currently waiting for my signature on five different continents.
I knelt down on the wet clover, totally unconcerned with the dampness seeping through my trousers.
Lily came running toward me, her arms wide, her red boots making bright, splashing sounds with every step. She launched herself into my chest, her cold, damp nose pressing against my neck, her small arms wrapping tight around my throat.
I caught her, swinging her up into the morning light, her laughter filling the air between the ancient oaks like a song that had finally found its proper key.
My father had built this house out of granite and slate to protect his name from the world. He had filled it with fine rugs, mahogany furniture, and cold, silent rooms designed to impress men who didn't care about him. He had died in a leather chair surrounded by papers that meant nothing to anyone.
I looked back at the vast, gray mansion standing behind us.
It wasn't a mausoleum anymore. It was just a house—a big, slightly ridiculous house with seventeen bedrooms that needed to be painted, three sitting rooms that needed new rugs, and an east wing that would never be quiet again.
"Efan," Lily whispered in my ear, her small hand reaching out to touch the paper daisy that was still pinned to my sweater. "Are we going to build another castle today?"
May you like
I looked at her—at her clear brown eyes, her wild brown hair, and the bright yellow daisy that had saved my life under an old oak tree.
"Yes, Lily," I said, holding her tight against my chest as we walked back toward the sunlit house. "We're going to build a castle, and this time, nobody is going to knock it down."
