Now, I had a real purpose.

The door opened again, and Dante walked in carrying a bag from the bakery.

He looked relaxed, his shoulders no longer tense with the weight of the syndicate.

“Are you ready for lunch?” he asked.

“Almost,” I said, closing my laptop. “I just need to sign these grants.”

He walked behind my chair and placed his hands on my shoulders, leaning down to kiss my temple.

“You are doing incredible work here, Sophia,” he said.

“We are doing it,” I said.

“No,” Dante said. “This is your project. I only provided the capital.”

I leaned my head back against him.

“How is Lily?” I asked.

“She is with Mrs. Patel at the park,” Dante said. “She tried to feed a cookie to a pigeon.”

I laughed, imagining my daughter running across the grass.

She would never know the fear that had defined my life.

She would never know the cold panic of an empty bank account.

***

We walked home together that evening through the warm spring air.

Dante pushed the stroller, his pace matched to mine.