Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Ryan
One year later.
Sunlight barged through the gaps in the curtains, slicing gold bars across the floor. I yawned and rolled over. This wasn't the old cabin anymore. Ronan had bought up nearly all the surrounding land and expanded it into a private estate with a massive heated pool and gardens front and back.
My mind hadn't fully surfaced from deep sleep when the mattress dipped. A familiar scent—patchouli mixed with faint aftershave—moved closer.
I didn't open my eyes. Something cold touched my fingertips.
Ronan was on one knee beside my bed, holding a diamond ring that blazed with light. My ring. My wedding band. Last night I'd taken it off while helping Rose make pottery in the playroom—didn't want it getting dirty—and tossed it on the nightstand.
"Miss Ryan Clark. Will you marry me and never leave me again?"
I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt and groaned into the pillow. God as my witness, this wasn't the first time.
After Ronan recovered, we'd signed the marriage papers at Palo Alto City Hall.
I'd refused his proposal to rent out an entire island and carpet it with imported roses for some wedding of the century.
I hated that fake socializing. Our only witnesses that day were Declan, Marco, Lulu, Eleanor, and our two kids.
Oh! Almost forgot—our matchmaker too: Mrs. Smith and her Cleo.
That damn dog still looked at me like she wanted to steal my socks. Only Ronan could calm her down.
I still remember that day at City Hall. Lulu flew in overnight from New York, filmed the whole thing on her phone, and cried harder than me, the actual bride.
Her eyeliner ran everywhere while she sobbed and jabbed her finger at Ronan's nose, warning him that if he ever hurt me, she'd stab a stiletto through his throat.
Marco laughed like an idiot until Lulu kicked him in the shin so hard he yelped.
And ever since that simple, perfect wedding, Ronan had developed this weird obsession.
Whenever I took off my ring—to shower or do crafts—and he noticed, he never just handed it back.
He'd do this. Find the most unexpected moment, drop to one knee, and run through that whole damn proposal routine again.
Like if this ring wasn't on my finger, my answer might change.
"Ronan, if you're planning to make me say 'I do' every Tuesday morning, I swear I'll swallow this ring."
I stuck my left hand out from under the covers. Same every time.
Ronan reverently slid the diamond back onto my ring finger, kissed my knuckles, then traced his lips up my wrist to my mouth.
"Good morning, Mrs. Valerius."
"Good morning, you manipulative bastard." I laughed and pushed his face away, throwing off the covers.
After washing up, we walked side by side to the dining room. The air smelled like butter-fried eggs and caramelized toast. Pedro was already at the table. He'd been into Spider-Man lately—even his fork had Spider-Man on it. He saw me, called out "Mommy," and went back to his sandwich.
Rose came in carrying warm milk. Her blonde hair fell loose over her shoulders. She'd grown so much in the past year, already becoming a graceful young woman.
"Good morning, Mom." Rose saw me and said it naturally, then sat down at the table.
Rose had changed how she addressed me the day Ronan woke up. That little ghost who'd locked herself in darkness, who couldn't even look at people—she'd finally walked out of her nightmare.
I took my usual seat. Ronan pulled out his chair and sat beside me.
He reached across the table and grabbed a very familiar glass jar, sliding it over to me. This honey jar was like some secret totem between us, following us across four years from a cold stone fortress on the East Coast to a sun-filled villa on the West Coast.
I took it, scooped out some with the wooden spoon, and drizzled it over fresh toast. Looked up and caught Ronan's eyes.
"Hey! That's my egg!"
I turned. Rose was pretending to grab the last piece of crispy-edged fried egg, but slid it into Pedro's bowl instead.
"Hey! Little man! That's not fair!"
I knew Rose's game. Pedro hated eggs, so she tricked him into eating more.
This was the life I wanted.
Over the past year, under Ronan and Declan's near-brutal purge, the family had completed its transition to legitimate business.
To support the shift, Declan moved the headquarters from Manhattan to a San Francisco skyscraper.
And the most unbelievable part? Marco. He'd taken a bunch of former manor guards who'd gone straight and opened a massive boxing gym downtown.
Hands that once held submachine guns and machetes now taught Silicon Valley programmers how to throw punches.
Marco got so bored sometimes, and he'd volunteer at my clinic. Imagine a six-three wall of muscle covered in falcon and scythe tattoos, surrounded by three- and four-year-olds calling him "Big Teddy Bear" while he wore a forced pink bunny-ear headband.
After breakfast, we got busy. Today was special.
A year of my blood, sweat and tears—the new campus of Lumina Child Psychological Rehabilitation Center—was finally opening. The grand ribbon-cutting was this afternoon.
This was now one of the largest, most advanced child psychology rehabilitation facilities in America.
From the day I decided to expand, I'd poured every spare moment outside of patient hours into this.
From site selection to blueprints, to the wall colors in every therapy room, to traffic flow in activity areas ensuring kids wouldn't bump into things, even to the calming plants in the outdoor garden—I'd overseen every single detail.
Ronan's Valerius Group provided full funding and top-tier construction teams.
Ronan and I changed in the walk-in closet. I chose a white suit. After dressing, I sat at the vanity while Nora carefully styled my hair.
In the mirror's reflection, I noticed Ronan standing motionless at the wardrobe for five full minutes. In his hand, he held a gray suit jacket. That particular shade of charcoal gray, those buttons—identical to the one he'd wrapped around me when that dog tore my shirt.
His fingers rubbed back and forth over the cuff. I signaled Nora to wait and walked over.
"What's wrong? Can't find your tie?"
"Ryan... if I wear this, will it make you uncomfortable?"
"Uncomfortable?"
"Will it remind you of... bad things?"
This gray suit ran through our entire story. At first, it covered my humiliation. Later, it became my shield. It carried so much protection and tenderness, but also my deepest fears.
I didn't answer. Instead, I took the matching deep silver silk tie from his hand.
"Bend down."
Ronan leaned forward slightly. I stood on my toes, looped the tie around his neck, and deftly tied a Windsor knot at his collar. When I finished, I helped him into the jacket and leaned into his chest. That deep, spicy patchouli scent still lingered in the fabric.
"Ronan. You know what I'm thinking?"
He held his breath. Didn't speak.
"I'm thinking that no matter how embarrassed I was, how much danger I faced, every time I needed someone most, the owner of this jacket was there." My fingers traced his solid chest. "Before, you shielded me from every storm and bullet. Now we'll stand together in the sunlight. Out in the open."
He kissed me. When it ended, I stepped back and looked over this devastatingly handsome man.
"Perfect." I patted his shoulder with satisfaction. "Let's go, Mr. Valerius. Don't keep our guests waiting."
At 2 p.m., the ribbon-cutting ceremony began on the massive sunlit lawn in front of the new campus.
The crowd was even bigger than I'd expected. Prominent local pediatricians, Eleanor and colleagues from Stanford's psychology department, parents from the community whose kids we'd helped... even several highly respected academics who'd flown in from the East Coast filled the guest seats.
And of course, the most important people in my life.
Front row center was Ronan. He sat perfectly straight.
From the moment I stepped onto the platform, those silver eyes never left me for even a second.
One hand firmly held Pedro, who was squirming like a little monkey—clearly executing the task I'd assigned her: preventing this restless kid from sliding out of his seat and causing chaos at such a serious event.
In the row behind them, I saw Lulu. She'd flown straight over, hugged me so hard when we met I thought she'd crack my ribs. Now she was excitedly holding up her phone, camera aimed at me, waving hard.
Next to Lulu sat Marco, looking dead inside. His massive frame was stuffed into a tight white dress shirt that barely qualified as formal. He'd irritably unbuttoned the top button—clearly forced into this outfit by Declan sitting beside him.
I took a deep breath, looked back at the crowd, and spoke into the microphone.
"Good afternoon, everyone. Welcome to the new campus of Lumina Child Psychological Rehabilitation Center."
My voice echoed through the speakers across the quiet lawn. In my hand, the speech was full of the center's mission, visions for treating childhood PTSD, cold academic data and future plans.
But as those sincere gazes focused on me, my mind flashed through countless images that weren't in any speech.
I saw Cleo knocking me down on that Riverside Drive lawn, tearing my shirt, making me crash into a pair of gray eyes.
I saw that ghostly little girl at the end of the second-floor hallway at Ironwood Manor, standing barefoot on cold floors, eyes desperate and hollow...
Those moments, happy and terrifying, were the most vivid experiences of my life. Unforgettable.
"...We hope every child who walks through these doors will rediscover their sense of safety. Love is the ultimate cure for all trauma."
I finished the last line of my speech. I pulled my gaze from the crowd and landed precisely on the man in the front row center.
Ronan looked up at me. His eyes burned with pride too intense to hide.
"Mommy!"
Pedro finally broke free from Rose's death grip and charged to the front of the platform.
Using every ounce of strength, he shouted at me on stage.
"Mommy! You're super super amazing today!!!"
My microphone was still on. His voice instantly filled the entire lawn.
The guests froze. Then everyone burst into warm, booming laughter. Thunderous applause rose like a tide, completely drowning me in this sun-soaked California afternoon.
THE END