The night sky over Manhattan was a glittering expanse of silver and dark velvet as the private helicopter descended onto the helipad atop the Cross Tower on the Upper East Side. The steady, rhythmic thrum of the rotor blades vibrated through the cabin, painting glowing reflections across the tinted glass windows.
Maya held Toby close against her side, her arm wrapped securely around his warm jacket. The boy was rubbing his eyes, exhausted from the long cross-Atlantic flight, but his gaze remained wide with childlike wonder as he looked down at the sea of city lights below.
Is this our new house, Mommy? Toby asked, his voice soft and raspy against the dull roar of the engines.
It is, sweetie, Maya replied softly, leaning down to press a warm kiss to his hair.
Beside them, Julian remaine
