Chapter 9 - the sovereign trust
Three months later, the spring sun warmed the grand back terrace of the Moretti estate. Blooming cherry blossom trees framed the lush green lawn overlooking the ocean.
Three-year-old Mia was running happily across the grass with a young golden retriever puppy, her pink dress bouncing as her laughter echoed across the grounds.
Sitting at a white wrought-iron table on the sunlit terrace was Alina. She wore a beautiful floral spring dress, her dark hair falling softly over her shoulders, her pale skin glowing with radiant health and complete peace.
Damon walked out onto the terrace carrying two glasses of fresh lemonade. He wore a crisp white dress shirt with rolled sleeves and dark trousers. He set the glasses down, sat beside Alina, and gently wrapped his broad arm around her shoulders, pulling her close against his side.
Alina leaned her head against his broad chest, resting her hand over his tattooed forearm. "What are you thinking about, Damon?"
"I'm thinking about how a three-year-old girl holding a scorched key saved my life," Damon said softly, his gray-blue eyes filled with deep, unwavering devotion as he kissed her temple.
Mia came running up the terrace steps, holding her cream stuffed rabbit, and jumped onto Damon's lap with a happy giggle.
"Uncle Damon! Look at my drawing!" Mia cheered, holding up a piece of paper covered in bright wax crayon drawings.
The drawing showed a big house under a yellow sun, with three figures holding hands: a small girl in a pink dress, a woman in a navy dress, and a tall man in a black suit with a big smile.
Damon held the drawing, looking down at it with deep, breathtaking pride. "This is going right on my office desk, Mia."
Mia giggled, wrapping her small arms around his neck, giving him a warm hug.
Just then, Dante walked quietly out onto the terrace, holding an unsealed black leather envelope bearing an official international wax seal from Europe.
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"Sorry to disturb the afternoon, Boss," Dante said softly, his tone serious. "This was just delivered by a diplomatic courier from London."
Damon’s smile faded slightly. He accepted the heavy envelope, broke the dark wax seal, and pulled out a single sheet of aged parchment paper.
