Chapter 18
Chapter 18: The Scent of Lilacs
Three months later, the city of Chicago had completely forgotten the name Whitcomb. The headlines were dominated by the city’s economic recovery and the expanding success of the Nathan & Lillian House, which had just opened its second branch in the South Side.
It was a warm August evening, the air thick with the heavy, sweet scent of blooming white lilacs from the estate garden. Enzo and Harper were hosting a private dinner on the stone terrace for the staff of the sanctuary and a few of Enzo’s closest associates. It was a strange, beautiful mix of people—older Italian women from the kitchen laughing with child psychologists, and rugged security guards holding cups of high-end espresso.
Bruno was lounging near the buffet table, receiving an endless supply of prosciutto from the children who had come with their parents.
Harper stood near the edge of the stone railing, watching the scene with a bright, genuine smile. She felt a pair of large, warm hands rest on her hips, pulling her back against a broad, solid chest.
"You're ignoring your guests, Mrs. DeLuca," Enzo whispered against her ear, his rough jaw brushing her cheek.
"I’m just watching the miracle," Harper murmured, leaning back into him. "Look at them, Enzo. A year ago, I didn't think a space like this could exist. I thought the whole world was just a series of locked rooms and people waiting for the next blow to fall."
"We built the walls thick enough to keep the blows out," Enzo said, his voice fiercely protective.
"No," Harper said, turning in his arms to face him, her eyes shining with absolute certainty. "We didn't just build walls, Enzo. We took the doors off the hinges. We let the light in."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, white envelope, sliding it into his hand. "Speaking of the future... I think we're going to need to build a nursery in the east wing."
May you like
Enzo froze, his breath catching in his throat. He looked down at the envelope, then back up at her, his eyes wide with a rare, beautiful vulnerability. "Harper... are you...?"
"The doctors confirmed it this morning," she whispered, a single tear of joy escaping her eye. "A new generation, Enzo. One that will never know what a belt looks like. One that will grow up knowing exactly what it means to be safe."
