Chapter 9 - The Colors of the House
One year later.
The summer sun shone brightly over the gardens of the Cross estate.
A large white tent had been set up on the emerald lawn overlooking the water. Soft classical music played from string quartets hidden near the rose garden, while dozens of guests—doctors from St. Catherine’s, local friends, legal partners, and foundation staff—milled about holding glasses of champagne.
At the edge of the patio, Julian stood wearing a sharp dark-blue tux, his hand resting casually in his pocket.
Beside him stood Maisie, now four years old, wearing a small white flower-girl dress with a bright pink sash around her waist. She was holding a tiny basket full of yellow rose petals.
"Are the shoes angry today, Julian?" Maisie asked, looking down at his polished black dress shoes.
Julian chuckled—a real, booming laugh that echoed across the lawn. He knelt down beside her, adjusting her small flower crown.
"No, Maisie," Julian said, his eyes crinkling with warmth. "Today, these shoes are happy."
"Good," Maisie declared, taking a small handful of rose petals and tossing them into the air early. "Because Mommy looks like a princess."
Julian looked up toward the glass doors of the mansion.
Nora stepped out onto the terrace.
She wore a breathtaking, simple white silk gown that fell in soft, elegant waves around her feet. Her brown hair was swept back into a soft, romantic style, adorned with delicate white blossoms. In her hands, she held a bouquet of bright orange, purple, and yellow wildflowers—a deliberate choice, made in honor of the drawings that had once saved a man’s soul.
Julian felt his breath catch in his throat, exactly as it had the day he opened his eyes in Room 904.
Nora walked down the stone steps, her eyes locked onto his. There was no fear in her expression, no shadow of the past, no lingering pain of grief or survival. She was radiant, grounded, and completely deeply in love.
As she reached the altar set up near the edge of the lawn, Julian reached out his hand.
Nora placed her hand in his. His fingers closed around hers—warm, strong, and permanent.
"You look beautiful," Julian whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
"You don't look so bad yourself, Mr. Cross," Nora whispered back with a teasing smile.
"I told you," Julian murmured, his dark gray eyes shining with pure joy. "It’s Julian."
The justice of the peace stepped forward, opening his book.
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"We are gathered here today," the justice began, his voice echoing over the quiet murmur of the sea breeze, "to unite two lives that were brought together not by chance, but by courage, faith, and love..."
As the vows were spoken, Maisie sat on a small wooden bench in the front row, swinging her legs back and forth, happily dropping pink rose petals onto the green grass.
