Chapter 13 - Cashmere and Cold VerandahsUp in the newly renovated master suite overlooking the Atlantic, the room was bathed in the soft, warm, golden glow of a stone fireplace.
Sofia sat in a plush velvet armchair, wrapped securely in an ivory cashmere shawl that smelled of cedar and rain, while the estate physician quietly packed his medical bag after confirming that despite the physical trauma, her pregnancy was remarkably strong and healthy.
Christian sat on a low wooden stool directly beside her chair, holding a small porcelain bowl of warm chicken broth and feeding her with a silver spoon—just as Sofia had fed his father down in the seawall vault months ago.
“You don't have to do this, Christian,” Sofia smiled softly, a stray tear of pure relief slipping down her cheek. “I’m just a maid from the docks.”
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Christian captured her hand, pressing his lips tenderly to her calloused, chemical-scarred knuckles.
“You were never just a maid, Sofia,” Christian murmured, his green eyes locked onto hers with absolute devotion. “You were the anchor that saved our house from sinking into the dark.”
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