Chapter 13 - The Hamptons Sanctuary: Breathing Fresh Air for the First Time
The private helicopter touched down gently on the manicured green lawn of Chase’s Hamptons estate, kicking up a soft whirl of sea-salt air and afternoon sunlight.
The estate was a sprawling, modern architectural masterpiece of glass, white cedar, and stone, perched directly on a secluded bluff overlooking the crashing waves of the Atlantic Ocean.
As the rotor blades whirred to a stop, Chase opened the cabin door and extended his hand to help me down onto the grass.
The moment the ocean breeze hit my face, I closed my eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, gazing out at the endless expanse of blue water stretching toward the horizon.
“It’s yours as much as it is mine,” Chase said, slipping his hand into mine, his thumb stroking my diamond engagement ring.
“No security guards standing at the door, no lawyers knocking on the glass, just the ocean and us.”
We walked slowly down the stone pathway toward the house, the sound of seagulls crying overhead and waves crashing against the shore washing away the lingering tension of the city.
For the next two months, the world outside ceased to exist.
While Marcus Vance’s corporate empire was systematically dismantled and carved up by federal bankruptcy courts, I spent my days walking barefoot along the sandy beach, reading architectural magazines, and listening to Chase talk about nursery designs and baby names.
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He wasn't the ruthless, terrifying billionaire the financial press wrote about.
To me, he was simply the man who had turned the city upside down to find me, the man who had promised to protect our family with his dying breath.
