Chapter 7: The Lake House
To escape the media circus gathering outside the gates of Hawthorne Manor, Andrew relocated the family to their private estate on the shores of Lake Como.
The Italian villa was surrounded by ancient olive groves, stone terraces, and calm blue waters reflecting the snow-capped Alps. It was here, in this very garden, that Andrew and Claire had exchanged vows twelve years ago.
For the first week, Claire spent every waking hour with the twins. She taught them how to skip stones across the glassy water, showed them how to press wild lavender into leather-bound journals, and baked simple lemon biscuits in the villa’s rustic stone kitchen.
Yet, between Andrew and Claire, an ocean of unspoken grief remained.
One evening, after the boys had fallen asleep exhausted from a day on the sailboat, Andrew found Claire sitting on the stone balustrade overlooking the lake, holding a glass of mineral water.
""You're still carrying the weight of the cellar, aren't you?"" Andrew asked softly, stepping beside her.
Claire looked down at the dark water below. ""I spent years thinking you traded me for a shipping merger, Andrew. Even though the truth has come out, the mind remembers the cold. It remembers waking up in a hospital with no name and no past.""
""I should have looked harder,"" Andrew choked out, the guilt that had haunted him for years spilling over. ""When the police showed me that burnt ring... I gave up. I let my grief blind me. If I had hired private investigators instead of drowning in whiskey, I would have found you in Lyon.""
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Claire turned and looked into his grief-ravaged face. ""We were both victims of evil, Andrew. But if we spend the rest of our lives looking at the shadows behind us, we will miss the boys growing up in the sun.""
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