Chapter 6
323words
Three months later.
I stood at my studio window.
The Alps rose majestically in the distance.
Snow-capped.
Pure.
Serene.
Nothing like Chicago's chaotic skyline.
"Irina?"
Ethan entered with two steaming mugs.
"Lost in thought again?"
"Just thinking."
"About him?"
"No."
"Liar."
He handed me a mug.
"You always touch your stomach when you think of him."
I glanced down.
My hand rested protectively over my abdomen.
"I can't seem to stop doing that."
"Don't try," Ethan said gently.
"That was your child."
"It's normal to grieve."
"But—"
"You don't regret leaving, do you?"
I considered for a moment.
"Not for a second."
"Then that's all that matters."
The studio door opened.
My mentor bustled in.
"Irina! Wonderful news!"
"The Met in New York wants you for a Raphael restoration."
"Seriously?"
"Of course! You've become one of Europe's premier restoration experts."
"When would I start?"
"Next month, if you're interested."
I glanced at Ethan.
He nodded reassuringly.
"I'll take it."
***
Meanwhile, in Chicago.
Moretti Estate.
Alessandro hunched in his study.
Reports piled before him.
All about Irina.
Her location.
Her activities.
Her companions.
"Boss," his lieutenant reported.
"We found her in Zurich."
"Got the address of her studio."
"Should we… bring her back?"
Alessandro stared at her photo.
She was smiling—genuinely smiling.
A real smile that reached her eyes.
When had he last seen that expression?
Three years ago?
Or had he ever?
"No."
"Sir?"
"Let her be free."
He signed the termination agreement with a steady hand.
"Send this to her."
"And this."
He produced a thick envelope.
"What is it, sir?"
"Her mother's painting. And…"
He hesitated.
"Half of everything I own."
"As compensation."
The lieutenant's jaw dropped.
"Boss, you can't—"
"Just do it."
"Yes, sir."
The man left quickly.
Alessandro rose slowly.
He walked to the window.
Chicago's skyline glittered below.
But he felt nothing but emptiness.
"Goodbye, Irina."
"I hope you find what I couldn't give you."
