Chapter 9 - The Roots We Plant
The drive to Ohio took five hours.
Vincent drove the Escalade himself, leaving Leo and the guards behind in Chicago. He wanted this trip to be just the two of them. Harper sat in the passenger seat, the window rolled down, letting the warm summer wind tangle her hair.
They drove past endless fields of corn, sleepy rural towns, and old steel bridges. The further they got from the skyscrapers of Chicago, the more the tension visibly drained from Harper’s shoulders.
Eventually, they turned onto a quiet, tree-lined road on the outskirts of a small town.
They pulled up to a small, well-kept cemetery nestled against a gently sloping hill.
Vincent parked the car. He reached into the backseat and pulled out a massive, beautiful arrangement of white lilies and orchids—the same orchids he had imported for her shop.
Harper took a deep breath. She reached for the door handle, but Vincent gently placed his hand over hers.
“Take your time,” he said.
Harper offered him a small, grateful smile. They stepped out of the car and walked hand-in-hand through the soft grass.
They stopped in front of a modest granite headstone under a large oak tree.
Margaret Ann Reed.
Beloved Mother.
Harper knelt down, her fingers tracing the carved letters. She placed the flowers gently against the stone.
“Hi, Mom,” Harper whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I did it. The people who hurt you… they can’t hurt anyone else anymore. They’re locked away. You’re safe now. I’m safe.”
Vincent stood a few steps back, giving her space, his hands clasped respectfully in front of him.
Harper reached up and touched the silver watch hanging around her neck.
“I brought someone with me today,” she continued, looking back at Vincent. “His name is Vincent. He… he helped me when no one else would. He’s a good man, Mom.”
Vincent felt a strange tightening in his chest. A good man. He wasn’t sure if he deserved that title, but looking at Harper, he knew he was going to spend the rest of his life trying to earn it.
Harper stood up and walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. Vincent held her tight, resting his chin on her head, looking at the headstone.
“She would have liked you,” Harper murmured against his shirt.
“She raised a fighter,” Vincent said softly. “I respect that.”
They stood there in the quiet peace of the cemetery for a long time. The wind rustled the leaves of the oak tree above them, carrying away the last remnants of the darkness that had haunted them both.
Finally, Harper pulled back slightly and looked up into his eyes.
“Are we going back to Chicago?” she asked.
Vincent smiled, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“We have an empire to run,” Vincent said. “And you have a flower shop to open on Monday.”
Harper laughed, a bright, clear sound that carried across the hills. She grabbed his hand, interlacing her fingers tightly with his.
May you like
“Let’s go home, Vincent.”
They turned and walked back toward the car, leaving the past buried where it belonged, ready to build a future that finally belonged to them.
