Chapter 9 - The Recovery
Three months later.
Spring had arrived in Boston, melting the harsh winter ice and bringing green grass and bright flowers to the estate gardens on Beacon Hill.
The Kavanaugh syndicate had undergone a complete purge.
Declan’s conspirators were in federal prison, Maeve had been permanently exiled to Europe, and Connor had restructured his entire business empire into legitimate international shipping and real estate corporations.
In the grand master bedroom of Kavanaugh House, the morning sun poured through wide open windows.
I lay in the giant four-poster bed, exhausted, sweaty, but filled with a joy so profound it made my heart ache.
Beside me, held gently in Connor’s massive, tattooed hands, was a beautiful newborn baby girl.
Connor sat in a newly designed, comfortable armchair beside the bed—not his heavy chrome wheelchair, but an elegant seat where he could easily reach the cradle.
He looked down at the tiny baby wrapped in a pink wool blanket, his hardened face completely transformed by an expression of pure, unconditional reverence.
"She has your hair, Sadie," Connor whispered softly, his large thumb gently stroking the baby's soft red curls.
"And she has your stubbornness," I replied, smiling weakly from the pillows.
Connor looked up at me, his storm-grey eyes filled with a warmth I had never seen in any man before.
He carefully leaned over, setting our daughter in the crib between us, before taking my hand in his.
"Eight months ago, you walked into my library wearing a worn coat and holding a silver coin," Connor said softly, kissing my knuckles. "I thought I was buying a tool to protect my empire. I didn't know I was saving my own soul."
"You saved my family, Connor," I replied, squeezing his hand tight. "You gave us a home."
"Then let's make it official," Connor said softly.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He opened it, revealing a stunning platinum ring set with a brilliant square-cut diamond, flanked by two small sapphire ravens.
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"Marry me, Sadie," Connor asked, his voice low and solemn. "Let me be a father to our daughter, and a husband to the bravest woman in Boston."
Tears spilled past my eyelashes as I smiled. "Yes, Connor. Yes."
