Chapter 12 - The Return to the Fireplace
Downstairs in the private family wing, the heavy iron gates of the estate felt miles away as I stepped into the newly organized estate management office.
The room smelled faintly of polished mahogany, fresh parchment, and the lingering scent of lavender.
My left shoulder still throbbed with a dull, manageable ache beneath my fresh cotton blouse, but the crushing weight of anxiety that had nearly suffocated me days ago was entirely gone.
Mrs. Carter walked into the office carrying a steaming porcelain mug of herbal tea and placed it gently on my desk.
"You've barely touched your breakfast, Emma," the elderly housekeeper said with a warm, maternal smile.
"You need your strength for your new responsibilities."
"I'm just still processing everything, Mrs. Carter," I admitted, looking around the spacious, sunlit office that was now officially mine.
"Yesterday I was dodging cleaning carts and hiding a torn uniform, and today I'm managing the entire estate's animal welfare division."
"Mr. Moretti recognizes genuine loyalty when he sees it," Mrs. Carter replied softly, resting a comforting hand on my good shoulder.
"And more importantly, Bruno is coming home this afternoon."
At the mention of the golden retriever's name, my heart fluttered with genuine joy.
"Dr. Patterson cleared him for discharge?" I asked eagerly.
"He's eating normally, his medication schedule is locked in, and the veterinary team says his spirit is stronger than ever," Mrs. Carter confirmed with a nod.
An hour later, the deep rumble of a customized transport van echoed across the cobblestone courtyard.
I hurried out the side service doors, my boots crunching lightly against the gravel as the vehicle came to a smooth stop.
The rear doors swung open, and Dr. Patterson stepped out alongside a member of Luca’s private security detail.
And there, resting on a plush memory-foam mat inside the van, was Bruno.
His silver-tipped muzzle twitched as he caught my scent, and his tail gave a weak, familiar thud against the floorboards.
"Welcome home, big guy," I whispered, kneeling down beside the crate and gently stroking his soft, golden ears.
Bruno let out a long, contented sigh, nuzzling his warm nose directly against my palm.
We carefully guided him out of the van and walked him slowly across the stone pathway toward the main entrance.
As we stepped into the grand foyer, Luca Moretti was standing near the foot of the magnificent marble staircase.
He had removed his suit jacket, his white dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the lean, powerful build of a man who commanded absolute authority.
Bruno paused for a fraction of a second, his cloudy eyes locking onto the master of the house.
Then, with a sudden burst of surprising energy, the old retriever trotted the remaining few feet straight toward Luca, letting out a joyful, muffled bark.
Luca dropped immediately to one knee, wrapping his arms securely around the dog's neck as Bruno enthusiastically licked the side of his jaw.
"Welcome home, old friend," Luca murmured, his voice thick with an emotion he rarely showed anyone else.
I stood quietly by the doorway, watching the tender reunion unfold in the golden afternoon sunlight filtering through the grand stained-glass windows.
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Luca looked up from the dog, his dark eyes meeting mine across the quiet foyer.
"Thank you, Emma," he said softly, his voice carrying a deep, unspoken resonance that made my breath catch in my throat.
