Chapter 4 - THE RECOVERY OF THE SOUL
Three weeks later.
The dark clouds that had hung over the Moretti estate for months had finally parted, leaving a brilliant, crystal-clear blue sky over Lake Michigan.
The estate had undergone a transformation. The heavy, gloomy drapes had been replaced with light linen curtains, allowing warm sunlight to flood every corridor.
In the second-floor conservatory, Eleanor Moretti sat in her favorite armchair, looking healthier and more vibrant than she had in five years. Her cheeks had regained their warm color, and her eyes were bright and active.
Sitting across from her was Hannah, wearing a simple cream knit sweater and jeans, reviewing a set of medical lab results.
"Your cardiac enzymes are completely normal, Eleanor," Hannah smiled, handing her a small glass of fresh orange juice. "The micro-damage from the digitalis has fully healed. You can start taking your morning walks in the garden again next week."
Eleanor took the glass, looking at Hannah with deep, maternal affection.
"I don't need a medical chart to tell me I'm better, my dear," Eleanor said gently, taking Hannah’s hand. "I know why I'm alive. You saved my life twice. Once from the poison... and once from the grief that was eating my son alive."
Hannah lowered her eyes, a faint blush creeping up her neck. "Dominic is strong, Eleanor. He didn't need me to save him."
"Dominic was turning into a monster, Hannah," Eleanor corrected firmly, her thumb smoothing over Hannah’s knuckles. "After his father died, he took the weight of the entire syndicate on his shoulders. He stopped smiling. He stopped feeling. He surrounded himself with cold, ambitious people like Vanessa because he thought he didn't deserve real happiness."
Eleanor leaned forward, looking deeply into Hannah’s eyes.
"When he looks at you, Hannah... I see my son again. The boy he was before the darkness took over."
Before Hannah could answer, the heavy double doors of the conservatory opened.
Dominic walked in. He was wearing a casual black cashmere sweater with the sleeves pushed up, his dark hair messy in the morning sunlight. In his hands, he carried a thick, official leather folder stamped with the seal of the United States Patent and Trademark Office.
"Mother," Dominic greeted Eleanor with a rare, soft kiss on her cheek before turning to Hannah.
"This came by federal courier five minutes ago," Dominic said, setting the folder down on the small table beside Hannah.
Hannah looked at the folder, her breath catching in her throat. She slowly opened the heavy leather cover.
Inside was an official United States Patent document registering the target gene-therapy formula under the name:
THE ARTHUR VANCE CARDIAC RESTORATION PATENT Primary Owners: Dr. Hannah Vance & The Vance Memorial Foundation
Attached to the document was a letter from the Director of the National Institutes of Health, offering a two-hundred-million-dollar federal research grant to establish a state-of-the-art cardiac research laboratory at the University of Chicago Medical Center—naming Dr. Hannah Vance as the permanent Director of Research.
Hannah stared at the gold-embossed seal, her eyes filling with tears.
"Dominic..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "How... how did you do this?"
"I didn't do it alone," Dominic smiled, stepping closer and sitting on the armrest of her chair. "Your father's research was verified by the NIH last week. The federal government seized the stolen drives from Marcus's assets and restored full legal ownership to you. The foundation is already fully funded."
Hannah buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as happy tears spilled through her fingers.
Four years of running. Four years of scrubbing floors, living in constant terror, believing her father's life's work was lost forever in the dark underbelly of corporate crime.
And now... not only was her father's name honored across the medical world, but she had been given the power to save millions of lives with his discovery.
Dominic reached out, gently pulling her hands away from her face, wrapping his arm around her waist, drawing her against his side.
"You don't have to be a maid anymore, Dr. Vance," Dominic murmured near her ear, a soft, teasing smile touching his lips. "Unless you still want to polish my silver."
Hannah let out a wet, breathless laugh, resting her head against his shoulder, holding the patent folder tightly against her chest.
"I'm a terrible maid anyway, Mr. Moretti," she laughed softly. "I broke three of your crystal glasses last week."
May you like
"I noticed," Dominic chuckled, kissing the crown of her dark hair. "You're fired from housekeeping. Effective immediately."
Eleanor watched them from her armchair, a magnificent, beautiful smile lighting up her aged face as she took a sip of her orange juice, knowing the dark storm over the Moretti family had finally passed.
