Chapter 12 - THE HEIRLOOM
Vincent led me out onto the massive stone terrace overlooking the gardens. The autumn air was crisp, the sky clear and full of stars.
He leaned against the stone balustrade, looking out over the dark lawn.
“When Whitmore was poisoning me,” Vincent began quietly, “I used to sit by the window in my bedroom and look out at this garden. I thought it was the last thing I was ever going to see. I had made peace with dying.”
He turned to look at me.
“Then a stubborn nurse with cheap shoes walked into my room, told my doctor off, and refused to let me die.”
I smiled, blushing slightly in the moonlight. “They were comfortable shoes, Vincent. On a twelve-hour shift, comfort wins.”
Vincent chuckled softly. Then he reached into his pocket.
He pulled out something small, wrapped in a piece of soft leather. He unrolled the leather and held it out to me.
It was a ring.
It wasn't a diamond engagement ring. It was an antique gold band, deeply engraved with a pattern of olive branches.
“This was my grandmother’s,” Vincent said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate timbre. “She brought it with her from Italy when she was nineteen. She gave it to my mother, and my mother gave it to me the day Leo was born. She told me to give it to the woman who would finally bring peace to this family.”
I stared at the ring, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Vincent... I can’t.”
“I’m not asking you to marry me tonight, Hannah,” Vincent said, a soft, teasing smile touching his lips. “I know I have a lot of work to do before I deserve you. I have a business to clean up. A past to bury. But I want you to know my intentions.”
He took my right hand, his large, warm fingers gently sliding the gold band onto my index finger. It fit perfectly.
“I want you in my life, Hannah Cole,” Vincent whispered, stepping closer until I could feel the heat radiating from his body. “I want you to be part of this family. If you’ll have us.”
I looked down at the antique gold ring. I looked back inside through the French doors, seeing Leo laughing with Isabella and Eleanor.
I had spent my whole life taking care of people. Fighting battles alone in hospital rooms and sterile corridors.
For the first time, I felt like someone was taking care of me.
I looked up into Vincent’s dark, beautiful eyes.
“I’d like to see where this goes, Vincent,” I whispered.
He smiled, raising his hand to cup my cheek. His thumb brushed softly across my jawline, sending a shiver down my spine.
He leaned in, and kissed me under the autumn stars.
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It was the start of something completely terrifying, utterly unpredictable, and absolutely perfect.
It was the end of the nightmare. And the beginning of home.
