Chapter 6 - Healing Beneath the Chandelier
Back at the Kingsley Estate, the sprawling neoclassical mansion felt less like a fortress and more like a sanctuary.
Hannah sat propped up against a mountain of goose-down pillows in a master bedroom suite larger than her and Ethan’s former master bedroom combined. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the glittering Lake Michigan shoreline at dusk. A fire crackled warmly in the marble fireplace, casting a golden glow across the antique furnishings and the fresh arrangement of white lilies resting on the bedside table.
The door opened softly, and Eleanor walked in carrying a silver tray laden with chamomile tea, fresh fruit, and warm pastries.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Eleanor asked gently, setting the tray down on the bedside table before sitting gently on the edge of the mattress.
Hannah smiled, a genuine, luminous smile that reached her eyes for the first time in years. “I feel like I’m dreaming. Every time I close my eyes, I keep waiting to wake up in that awful apartment, or back at the mansion listening to Ethan.”
“You never have to step foot near that man or that life ever again,” Eleanor said firmly, her silver-gray eyes fierce with maternal protection. “My legal team is making sure Ethan spends the next decade answering for every single dollar he stole from you—and from my family trust. As for the house, the assets, and his company? By the end of the week, he won't even be able to afford a cup of coffee.”
Hannah reached out, her hand resting over Eleanor’s. The touch felt natural, grounding, and profoundly right. “Thank you, Mom,” she whispered, testing the word on her tongue for the very first time.
Eleanor visibly choked up, a tear slipping down her cheek as she squeezed Hannah’s hand tightly. “Oh, my darling. You never have to thank me for loving you. I lost thirty-eight years of your life, Hannah. I intend to spend every single day of the rest of mine making up for every second of it.”
Suddenly, Hannah gasped softly, her eyes widening as she pressed her hand against her stomach.
“What is it? Is the baby okay? Should I call the doctor?” Eleanor asked, instantly alarmed, hovering over her daughter.
Hannah laughed softly, taking Eleanor’s hand and guiding it directly onto her belly. “No, Mom. Feel that?”
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Underneath their palms, a strong, healthy kick pressed firmly against the fabric of Hannah’s dress.
Eleanor gasped, a breathless laugh escaping her lips as tears streamed freely down her face. She pressed her cheek gently against Hannah’s shoulder, whispering softly to her unborn grandchild. “Hello there, little one,” she murmured. “Your grandmother is here. And I promise you, no one will ever, ever hurt your mother again.”
