Chapter 8 - Whispers of the Heart
By noon the following day, the rain had cleared, leaving behind a crisp, sunny afternoon. The mansion was quiet again, the broken glass repaired and the electronic security systems fully upgraded under Marco’s supervision.
Victor sat in his office, signing the legal documents that permanently dissolved Julian’s holdings in the company. A quiet knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” Victor said.
Bridget stepped into the room, wearing a simple cream-colored sweater and jeans. She looked rested, the dark circles under her eyes finally beginning to fade.
“The police just left,” she said softly, stepping closer to his desk. “Marco said Julian won't ever be coming back here.”
“He won't,” Victor confirmed, setting his pen down. “You never have to fear anyone in this house again, Bridget.”
Bridget stood across from him, her hands folded in front of her. She looked at the heavy brass candlestick that now rested permanently on the corner of his executive desk—a quiet reminder of the night he had found her sleeping outside his door.
“Victor… why did you take me in?” she asked softly. “My father died two years ago. You could have appointed a corporate manager to handle my trust and sent me to school abroad.”
Victor stood up from his chair and walked around the heavy oak desk, stopping right in front of her.
“Because the first day your father brought you to this estate ten years ago, I swore to myself that I would protect you from this world,” Victor said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. “And as you grew older, that promise stopped being about a legal duty.”
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Bridget looked up into his dark eyes, her breath catching in her throat. “What did it become?”
“It became the only thing that matters to me,” Victor answered truthfully.
