“I want her to grow up in a home.”

“Where will we go?” I asked.

“Somewhere warm,” Adrian said.

“Maybe Spain.”

“Maybe California.”

“We will build a new house.”

“One with big windows and no hidden basement.”

I rested my head against his shoulder.

“I would like that,” I said.

Over the next three weeks, we packed the estate.

The large rooms were slowly emptied of their heavy furniture.

The oil paintings were taken down from the walls.

The marble floors echoed with the sound of our footsteps.

Lila ran through the empty hallways, her laughter echoing off the high ceilings.

She did not understand the history of this place.

She only knew that we were going on an adventure.

Clara left for Switzerland two weeks after the confrontation.

We said goodbye to her at the airport.

She looked healthier, her cheeks having regained some color.

She hugged Adrian, and then she hugged me.

“Take care of him,” Clara whispered in my ear.

“I will,” I said.

On our final night in the Hudson Valley, we sat on the stone steps of the porch.