Chapter 3 - The Estate in the Valley
The drive north lasted two hours.
Sophie had slept through the entire ordeal, curled up on the soft leather back seat of the black SUV, wrapped in a plush wool blanket Miles had provided. Amelia hadn't closed her eyes for a single second. She watched the highway lights flicker past, her hands tightly clutching the leather envelope in her lap, her mind battling between sheer disbelief and profound relief.
At 3:30 a.m., the SUV turned off the highway onto a winding, private road flanked by ancient oak trees.
The vehicle stopped before a pair of massive wrought-iron gates set into ten-foot stone walls. Security cameras hummed softly atop the stone pillars, scanning the SUV's plates. With a heavy, mechanical hum, the gates swung open, welcoming them into a world Amelia didn't know existed.
The Corsetti estate sat on two hundred acres of prime Hudson Valley land.
The main house was a grand, stone manor built in the 1920s, featuring slate roofs, towering arched windows, and warm light pouring from the ground-floor library. Surrounding the house were manicured gardens, a private lake, and acres of dark, whispering pine forests.
The SUV pulled up to the grand front entrance.
The front doors were opened by an older woman wearing a neat navy dress, her silver hair pulled back into an elegant bun. She had a kind, tired face and eyes that held deep warmth.
"Welcome, my dear," the woman said, stepping down the stone steps to help Amelia out of the car. "I am Dolores. Mr. Corsetti instructed me to prepare the south wing for you and the little girl."
Amelia stood on the gravel driveway, holding a sleeping Sophie in her arms, looking up at the towering stone mansion. "Is... is Mr. Corsetti here?"
"He is in his study," Dolores replied gently, gesturing for them to step inside out of the cold night air. "He rarely sleeps. But he gave strict orders that you are not to be disturbed until you have rested."
The interior of the manor was breathtaking. High wood-paneled ceilings, soft Persian rugs covering dark hardwood floors, and fireplaces flickering in every sitting room. It didn't feel like a mob boss's lair; it felt like a sanctuary built to keep the outside world at bay.
Dolores led them up a grand staircase to the south wing.
The suite prepared for them was larger than Amelia’s entire Brooklyn apartment. A huge master bedroom with a king-sized bed, an adjoining room filled with stuffed animals, children’s storybooks, and a wooden playhouse for Sophie, and a private balcony overlooking the lake.
Amelia set Sophie down on the soft bed, tucking her under the warm duvet. The little girl turned over with a soft sigh, her hand clutching her pink teddy bear, finally sleeping in complete, absolute safety.
Amelia walked out onto the balcony. The night air was crisp, smelling of wet earth and pine resin.
Across the courtyard, on the ground floor of the main wing, a single yellow light shone through the window of a private study.
Through the glass, Amelia could see the outline of Dante Corsetti.
He was standing behind a massive oak desk, his suit jacket removed, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He was staring out the window into the dark trees, a glass of amber liquid held loosely in his right hand.
Amelia pressed her hand against the stone balustrade.
She remembered the six-year-old girl sitting across from him on the patio, asking why he was sad. She remembered the empty plate of marinara, the smell of basil and garlic, and the four words written on a scrap of paper: You are safe now.
May you like
For the first time in seven years, as Amelia looked out over the quiet valley, the crushing weight in her chest began to loosen. She pulled her sleeve up, looking at her bruised wrist under the moonlight.
She was no longer running.
