Chapter 13: The Field of Yellow
“Daddy! Look what Bruno found!”
Clara came sprinting up the grassy path, holding up a smooth, iridescent sea shell. Bruno trotted proudly at her heels, carrying a large piece of driftwood in his jaws like a trophy.
Gabriel wiped his brow, kneeling down as Clara threw her arms around his neck. Her heartbeat was strong, rhythmic, and vibrant against his chest—a steady reminder of the miracle in the cathedral.
“That’s an abalone shell, sweetheart,” Gabriel said, inspecting the treasure. “It’s beautiful.”
“We should put it in the garden,” Clara said, pointing toward the side of the cottage where an expansive bed of bright yellow marigolds and sunflowers swayed in the ocean breeze.
“Right in the center,” Gabriel agreed, ruffling her hair.
Every morning, Gabriel looked out at those flowers and remembered the vow he had made in the darkness of the safehouse. He had given up an empire of wealth, power, and fear, but standing here, watching the sun illuminate his daughter’s smile, he knew he had never been richer.
May you like
Bruno dropped the driftwood at Gabriel’s feet, sitting tall and alert, his dark eyes filled with a peaceful, contented loyalty.
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