Chapter 9 - The Mansion Became a Home
Emma refused to be called an heiress.
She preferred daughter.
She preferred daddy.
She preferred pancakes for dinner.
The first Christmas at Blackwood Estate was the loudest Christmas the mansion had ever experienced.
Clara decorated the tree.
Daniel pretended he couldn't wrap gifts.
Harold became Emma's favorite person because he always secretly gave her cookies.
I watched from across the room.
Sometimes I still couldn't believe she was mine.
She had a habit of stealing my ties.
She drew pictures on important documents.
She asked impossible questions.
She had turned my fortress into a home.
One evening, Clara found me in the study.
“You're staring again.”
“At what?”
“Our daughter.”
She smiled.
“You never get tired of it?”
“No.”
Clara sat beside me.
“Neither do I.”
I looked at her.
“I lost twelve years.”
“So did I.”
“I want the rest.”
She smiled.
“You have to ask.”
I laughed.
“Clara Hart, will you marry me?”
She stared.
Then she laughed through tears.
“You've only known you're a father for six months.”
“I've known I'm in love with you for twelve years.”
She leaned closer.
“That was a long proposal.”
“I can make it longer.”
“No.”
She kissed me.
“Yes.”
Our wedding happened in the garden.
No politicians.
No criminals.
No businessmen.
Just family.
Emma wore a white dress with tiny blue flowers.
She carried the rings.
Halfway down the aisle, she stopped.
“Wait.”
Everyone laughed.
She ran to me.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“You're not allowed to cry.”
“I wasn't.”
“You are now.”
She hugged me.
I was absolutely crying.
After the wedding, we sat at a long table beneath the lights.
Emma sat beside us.
Harold brought dessert.
Daniel raised a glass.
“To second chances.”
Clara raised hers.
“To surviving.”
I raised mine.
“To family.”
Emma lifted her juice.
“To pancakes.”
May you like
Everyone laughed.
The mansion had never sounded so alive.
