Chapter 6 - The Return to Astor StreetThree months later.
A sleek black Maybach pulled up under the grand portico of the Astor Street mansion.
The heavy iron doors swung open, and I stepped out into the afternoon sunlight, wearing a flowing emerald maternity dress that caught the spring breeze.
I wasn't the timid, terrified girl who had fled into the snow storm months ago.
Standing beside me, holding my hand with a gentle, reverent grip that never wavered, was Ethan.
He hadn't just apologized; he had dismantled his entire life to rebuild it around us. He had stepped down as CEO of Carter Enterprises, turning day-to-day operations over to a board of trustees while retaining only a passive advisory role. He had sold the cold, sterile limestone mansion downtown and purchased a sunlit, sprawling historic estate overlooking Lake Michigan with an expansive garden, a wrap-around porch, and no security guards standing inside the hallways to intimidate the air.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Carter,” Ethan whispered, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the back of my hand before opening the front door.
Inside, the house smelled of fresh tulips, vanilla, and warm bread—courtesy of Mrs. Gable, who had wept tears of joy when Ethan personally drove to Indianapolis to bring us back.
The cold, intimidating marble floors were now covered in soft Turkish rugs. The grand piano in the parlor held framed ultrasound pictures instead of business awards.
“Are you hungry?” Ethan asked softly, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind, his hands resting protectively over my rounded six-month belly. “Mrs. Gable made your favorite lemon scones.”
“I am,” I smiled, leaning back against his chest, feeling the steady, powerful thud of his heart. “And so is the baby.”
Ethan chuckled, burying his face in my neck, breathing in my scent as if it were oxygen.
“I still look at you sometimes,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, “and I can’t believe you gave me a second chance.”
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“I didn't give a second chance to the billionaire who thought he owned me, Ethan,” I turned in his arms, wrapping my arms around his neck and looking deep into his gray eyes. “I gave it to the man kneeling on a wooden floor in Indianapolis who finally learned how to love.”
Ethan smiled, a warm, radiant expression that transformed his harsh features into something breathtaking, and kissed me with all the fierce, unwavering devotion of a man who knew what it meant to lose everything—and fought his way back from the dark to earn it all again.
