Chapter 13 - THE HOUSE THAT LEARNED TO BREATHE
The Moretti estate changed.
Not overnight.
Not because I ordered it.
But because we began listening to the people who lived and worked there.
Staff schedules became more reasonable.
Medical decisions were reviewed independently.
Delaney participated in decisions about her care.
The household no longer revolved around secrecy.
I also began restructuring my businesses.
Some operations had been built on intimidation and illegal arrangements.
I could not erase that history.
But I could stop pretending it was inevitable.
With legal counsel, I began separating legitimate holdings from criminal activity and cooperating with investigations where required.
The process was difficult.
Some associates left.
Others resisted.
But I was determined.
June continued her studies.
She balanced classes with work.
And gradually moved into a role supporting accessibility projects through a community organization.
We kept our professional and personal lives separate as much as possible.
I learned that loving someone did not mean arranging every detail of her future.
Sometimes it meant standing beside her while she arranged it herself.
One evening, June found me in the library.
The blue notebook lay on the shelf.
She picked it up.
"You still have this?"
"Of course."
She smiled.
"You're sentimental."
"Don't tell anyone."
She laughed.
Then looked toward the staircase.
"Do you ever think about that night?"
"Every day."
She turned toward me.
"Really?"
I nodded.
"I came home because someone warned me Delaney would disappear."
June's expression changed.
"And instead, you found her laughing."
I smiled faintly.
"Yes."
She took my hand.
"Maybe that was the beginning."
I looked at her.
"Of what?"
May you like
She smiled.
"Of all of us coming back."
