Chapter 12 - The Ghost of Vittorio
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Elena rented a charming two-bedroom apartment on the fourth floor of a quiet residential building overlooking a tree-lined avenue.
It had no marble floors, no crystal chandeliers, and no liveried servants. It had hardwood floors, large windows that let in abundant sunlight, and a small balcony filled with potted flowers.
At 3:00 AM on her first night in the apartment, Elena woke up to the sound of soft breathing.
She sat up in bed. The room was bathed in the pale blue glow of the streetlights outside. Little Nicolás was sleeping peacefully in a wooden crib right beside her bed.
Elena swung her legs over the mattress and stood up, walking quietly across the room.
She listened.
There were no heavy footsteps walking down the hallway. There was no sound of a key turning angrily in the front door. There was no tense, suffocating anxiety waiting for an explosion.
There was only silence. Beautiful, pure, unadulterated silence.
Elena sat on the floor beside the crib, wrapped her arms around her knees, and began to cry.
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Unlike the tears she had cried on the marble floor of the Navarro mansion, these tears didn't burn. They felt cool, cleansing, and light.
For the first time in three years, she didn't need Alejandro to admit he was wrong to know that she was finally free.
