Chapter 10 - The Ring in the Pocket
That evening, after the boys had finally exhausted themselves and fallen fast asleep in their new beds, the penthouse settled into a peaceful, amber-lit quiet.
I walked out onto the private wrap-around balcony, watching the distant lights of the Manhattan skyline twinkle across the water. The cold February wind nipped at my face, reminding me of the night everything had changed—the night four little boys walked into a restaurant restroom wearing my face, carrying me back from the dead.
Behind me, the glass door slid open softly.
Mara stepped out onto the balcony, wearing a soft cashmere sweater, holding a small velvet box in her palm.
I turned around, my heart giving a strange, unfamiliar lurch.
"You left this in the jacket pocket of your old syndicate overcoat," Mara said quietly, her voice steady as she extended the little box toward me.
I looked down at it. It was the platinum engagement ring I had purchased six years ago—the one meant for Brielle Cartwright, meant to seal a cold, corporate alliance dictated by a mother who owned my life.
I took the box from Mara’s hand, flipped open the lid, and let the city lights catch the brilliant, flawless diamond inside.
"I bought this for a stranger," I said, my voice dropping into a low, earnest register as I looked directly into her dark eyes. "To please a family that didn't know how to love."
I closed the box, slipped it back into my pocket, and slowly dropped down onto one knee on the cold concrete balcony.
May you like
Mara’s breath caught, her hands flying to her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes.
"Mara Bennett," I said, taking her warm, calloused hand in mine. "Will you marry me—for real this time, with no lies, no ghosts, and no one else ever writing our story?"
