We drove out of the garage, up the ramp, and onto the wet streets of Chicago.

The city lights blurred through the rain-streaked windows.

The towering skyscrapers of the Loop seemed less intimidating now, just buildings made of steel and glass.

“I didn’t think I would ever see this day,” I said, watching the headlights of oncoming cars.

“You survived a great deal, Emily,” Adrian said.

“You did more than survive. You fought back.”

“I couldn’t have done it without your protection,” I said, turning to look at him.

“I only provided the space,” Adrian said, his expression softening. “The courage was yours.”

We drove along the lake, the dark water of Lake Michigan stretching out into the blackness.

The storm was beginning to break, the heavy clouds parting to show a few pale stars.

When we arrived at the estate, the iron gates opened silently to let us through.

The stone house stood solid and quiet against the night sky.

Inside, the foyer was warm, smelling of cedarwood and polished floors.

Mrs. Gable, the housekeeper, met us in the hall, her face creased with worry.