Two weeks later.
Elara stood in the Vermont house. Their Vermont house.
Snow covered the mountains. Trees lined the property. Peace. Quiet. Space.
Logan carried the last box inside. "That's everything."
She looked around. Hardwood floors. Big windows. A fireplace. Empty rooms waiting to be filled.
"It's beautiful," she said.
"It's ours." He set down the box. "No family. No history. Just us."
"And the baby."
His face softened. "And the baby."
They'd left Boston three days ago. Packed everything. Said goodbye to no one.
Victoria hadn't protested. Christian was already in Moscow. The estate felt like a tomb.
Vermont felt like freedom.
"Where should we start?" Elara asked.
"Bedroom." Logan took her hand. "I want to christen every room. But let's start there."
Heat flooded her fac
