Chapter 90
2216words
Zurich | Lichtergarten | Pavillon der Erinnerung
Days after the final signatures and papers in California, the three of them boarded a plane for Zurich. This time it wasn’t business that called them back, but something quieter, something Kristina had carried as a ritual through the years.
Every April, she returned to Lichtergarten to honor her parents, to tend to the place where she had laid their ashes long ago. This time, she wouldn’t be going alone.
The garden was hushed that morning, the kind of stillness that felt deliberate—like the world itself had paused to make space for them. Dew traced the edges of stone, catching the pale light, and the air held that crisp Zurich coolness Kristina always tied to beginnings. She walked the familiar path with Lucian and Eli beside her, gravel giving way to smooth stone as the pavilion came into view.
Lucian carried a bouquet of lilies, their white petals opening against the cool morning air. Eli held a smaller bundle of violets, their color deep against the morning gray, quiet but steadfast. Together, they placed the flowers at the base of the stone, the gesture tender but deliberate—like an offering, or a request.
Kristina lowered to her knees, fingertips brushing the name etched in marble. “It’s different this time,” she whispered, her voice barely louder than the wind. “I’m not alone anymore. I carry them—” she tilted her head, the smallest smile tugging at her lips “—and they carry me.”
Lucian rested a hand on her shoulder, steady and grounding. Eli knelt beside her, silent, but his presence was its own vow.
She drew a steady breath, her eyes resting on the carved names. “So much has changed,” she murmured, almost as if confessing. “My name is different now—Kristina Alonzo Voss-Sinclair. On paper, I’m Lucian’s wife, but in truth… I belong to them both. It feels right to say it here, to you. The vows are signed, the ties are real, and Eli has begun the process too—one step closer to being ours in every way.”
Her voice softened, carrying both certainty and longing. “There’s a ceremony coming. Not the kind you had… but something real, something ours. If blessings travel, I hope you’ll send them with me.”
For a moment, silence held. Then Lucian bent to place a white lily at the base of the marble, his hand steady, reverent. “She carries us with her,” he said quietly, almost as if promising it to them.
Eli followed, setting down a smaller bundle of lilies, his thumb brushing the edge of her hand before he let go. “And we’ll carry her,” he added, gentle but certain.
When Kristina rose, she let her hand linger on the stone, reluctant to break the touch. The lilies caught the morning light, soft and luminous, and for the first time in years, she walked away carrying more peace than sorrow.
Late April | Early May 2011
Sinclair Dominion HQ
The rhythm of work resumed quickly once they were back in California. Meetings, documents, calls—Sinclair Dominion never truly slowed. But this time, something felt different. The shadow that had haunted their steps since 2010 seemed finally ready to lift.
Karl Fischer arrived at the headquarters with his usual precision, briefcase in hand, his expression even but carrying the faintest thread of relief. He greeted them formally, then set the case down on the polished conference table.
“Bravotek,” he said without flourish, as though the word itself might dissolve if spoken too heavily. “They’ve been handled. The contracts are finalized, the last pieces moved into place. They won’t trouble Sinclair Dominion—or you—again.”
For a moment, no one spoke. Eli’s gaze shifted to Lucian, steady but questioning, and Lucian gave the faintest nod. It wasn’t trust, not yet, but it was enough. Kristina exhaled quietly, a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Fischer closed the briefcase, his voice low, almost softened. “Consider this the last shadow put to rest.”
The meeting moved on, numbers and projections filling the air, but something had shifted. When it ended, Lucian and Eli lingered a moment longer, sharing a glance that needed no words. And as they stepped into the late afternoon light, Kristina let herself breathe easier, as though a weight she had carried alone for years was finally shared—and finally set down.
Mid May 2011
Lucian Sinclair’s Estate | The Living Room
Late Afternoon
The late light slanted across the room, painting the hardwood in warm streaks as Eli broke the seal on the envelope. He stood at the edge of the coffee table, unfolding the court’s letter with deliberate care, like the weight of it belonged to him alone.
Kristina and Lucian waited in silence, giving him space to take the moment.
When Eli finally looked up, his smile was small but certain. “It’s official. The court accepted the petition.”
Kristina’s face brightened. “So it’s really happening.”
Eli nodded, a low laugh slipping out. “Yeah. We just wait for the baby now. But it’s real—it’s on record.”
Lucian leaned back against the sofa, his expression calm, almost satisfied. “Good. That’s what we wanted. Everything else will follow.”
Kristina reached across and touched Eli’s hand. “I’m glad it feels real to you now.”
“It does,” Eli admitted, his voice softer. “Not finished yet, but… closer.”
Lucian crossed the space between them, resting a steady hand on Eli’s shoulder. “Closer is enough. The rest is only time.”
Eli exhaled, and this time his smile stayed. The folder sat quiet on the table, no longer a hurdle—just a step forward, already taken.
Late May 2011
Lucian Sinclair’s Estate | Front Garden
AfternoonKristina had been walking the garden paths when the guard waved to her from the front gate. His gesture was brisk but not alarmed, the kind he used when someone harmless had wandered farther than expected.
When she reached the gate, she found a cab idling just outside. From it stepped the older woman from La Promessa — her gray hair pulled into a neat bun, her coat buttoned too high for the warmth of the afternoon. She carried a long garment bag across one arm, her grip steady despite the weight.
Kristina blinked, startled. “Signora? What are you doing here?”
Theolder woman’s eyes crinkled with a smile. “Forgive me, child. I thought a surprise might be better than a phone call.”
Kristina let out a soft laugh, torn between relief and nervousness. “You didn’t have to come all this way—”
“Of course I did,” the older woman interrupted gently, her accent lilting. “Some things must be seen, not described. And besides—” she lifted the bag slightly, as though it were fragile cargo—“you said you wanted it to be a secret. Better I bring it to you than risk someone else’s eyes at the shop.”
That caught Kristina off guard. She looked back toward the estate, half-expecting to see Lucian or Eli in the windows. The garden was still, private. She turned back quickly, lowering her voice. “All right. But only me. They can’t know yet.”
The older woman gave a conspiratorial nod. “Then lead the way, and we will keep our secret together.”
Kristina gestured the guard to open the gate, her pulse quickening with something halfway between anticipation and fear. As the cab pulled away, the older woman stepped onto the drive, her simple shoes crunching softly against the gravel.
For the first time, Kristina felt the weight of the moment settle in — her gown was no longer just a promise on paper. It was here, in her hands, hidden from the two men she loved, waiting to become part of the night that would change everything.
She led her inside, her pulse quickening with every step. Kristina kept glancing over her shoulder as she walked the older womanthrough the estate’s front hall, half expecting Eli or Lucian to appear around the corner. Her nerves made her steps quicker, but the older woman carried herself with ease, the garment bag balanced over her arm as if it were just groceries from the market.
Kristina turned the corner too fast—and nearly collided with Sebastian. She froze, eyes wide, like a child caught sneaking cookies.
Sebastian looked down at her, then at the older woman, then at the garment bag. His brow furrowed for all of two seconds before smoothing again into something neutral, almost bored. “Kristina,” he said evenly, voice low.
Kristina cleared her throat, shifting to block the bag from view even though it was hopeless. “Sebastian. Uh—where are Lucian and Eli?”
“In the study,” he replied without hesitation. His eyes flicked once—quick but unmistakable—to the garment bag, then back to her face. No comment, no smirk, but Kristina felt her stomach flip. He knew.
Sebastian pressed a hand to his earpiece. “Ash, Vex. Kristina is moving something sensitive through the hall. She’ll need a clear path to her room. Confirm?”
The comm crackled. Ash’s voice came back first, dry and amused, “Path clear. Though for the record, this is the first time we’ve been asked to secure silk instead of steel.”
Vex cut in before she could even roll her eyes. “Copy. Package looks important. Should we run interference if Lucian suddenly decides to stretch his legs?”
Kristina’s cheeks burned. “I can hear you!” she hissed.
There was a beat of silence—then Ash muttered with mock innocence, “Didn’t say a thing.”
Vex added, “Nope. Totally professional. Just… watching out for trip hazards. That bag’s about half her size.”
Kristina covered her face with one hand, mortified. The older woman chuckled softly, completely unfazed.
Sebastian’s tone sharpened. “Enough chatter. Maintain silence until I confirm.”
The line went dead.
He inclined his head toward Kristina, then gestured with one hand. “This way. Quickly.”
With an air of solemn duty, he walked ahead,ensuring every corner was safe, his focus so precise it could have been state secrets he was escorting. Only when they reached her bedroom door did he stop, finally stepping aside. “Delivered,” he said simply, opening the door for them.
Kristina let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Thank you. Really.”
Sebastian gave the faintest nod, expression unreadable, but his eyes lingered just long enough to tell her he understood the importance of the secret—and intended to keep it.
When the door closed behind them, the older woman turned to Kristina, a spark of humor in her eyes. “You live in quite the fortress. Makes hiding a dress much more exciting, don’t you think?”
Kristina groaned, muffled behind her hands. “You have no idea.”
Lucian Sinclair’s Estate | Kristina’s Bedroom
The bedroom door clicked shut behind them, sealing off the echo of Sebastian’s footsteps. Kristina leaned back against it, finally letting her shoulders drop.
The older woman, still unbothered, set the garment bag across the edge of the bed as though she’d been here a hundred times before. Her gaze drifted around the room without comment—over the shelves where books stood aligned like soldiers, the neatly folded throw on the armchair, the symmetry of picture frames and glass vases. There was no judgment in her eyes, only quiet recognition. A faint smile touched her lips, as though confirming something to herself. I made the right gown for her, her expression seemed to say.
“Well,” she said at last, smoothing the garment bag with careful hands, “that was more excitement than I usually get before fittings. Your security team takes their jobs seriously.”
Kristina gave a small laugh, shaking her head. “They’re not exactly my bodyguards. I actually work with them. It’s… a long story.”
The older womanbrows lifted, but she didn’t press, simply letting the corner of her mouth lift in quiet amusement. “All the same, they’d guard a loaf of bread if they thought it mattered to you.”
Kristina’s smile softened. “That’s true.”
“Good,” the older womansaid, as if that were the most natural thing in the world. She patted the bag once. “But this—this isn’t bread.”
Kristina stepped closer, fingertips brushing the smooth cover. “I don’t even know what it looks like yet,” she admitted softly. “You wouldn’t tell me.”
The older woman’s eyes crinkled with mischief. “Some things are better revealed at the right moment. Trust me—when you see it, you’ll understand why.”
Kristina hesitated, then tugged gently at the zipper, stopping halfway. A slip of white lace peeked through, delicate and intricate against the muted light of her room. She froze, staring at it as though it might dissolve if she blinked. White had never been her color—too fragile, too traditional. But this was different. Somehow, in that narrow glimpse, she felt the quiet certainty that the gown belonged to her, and she to it.
She let the zipper fall closed again, pressing her palm to the bag as though sealing the moment. Her voice was steadier now, softer but sure. “It feels right.”
The older woman’s expression softened, her earlier smile deepening into something more knowing. “It should. Every stitch was made with you in mind.”
Kristina swallowed, caught between nerves and anticipation. For the first time, the secret didn’t feel heavy—it felt like a gift waiting for its moment in the light.
Some secrets are not hidden to be kept—they’re hidden to be revealed when the heart is ready.
—To be continued.
