"No," Julian whispered, a smile breaking through his exhaustion. "Nothing is wrong. Everything is finally right. Siena... we’re having a baby. Our own."
Siena’s breath caught. She looked at him, her eyes searching for a lie, for a mistake. She found only the absolute, architectural truth.
She moved her hand from her side to her stomach, her fingers splaying over the hidden life that had survived the storm, the glass, and the darkness.
"Ours," she breathed.
"Ours," Julian repeated.
In that sterile hospital room, the "Sanctuary" was finally completed. It wasn't made of stone or Munich glass or ancient oak. It was made of the three of them—a man who had learned to be honest, a woman who had learned to be brave, and the two children who would grow up in the light they had fought so
