Chapter 7 - Midnight at the Taconic Mile MarkerBy 4:30 AM, a convoy of four black armored Suburbans departed Blackwood Tower, cutting through the deserted streets of Manhattan and heading north onto the Taconic State Parkway.
The sleet had subsided into a dense, clinging river fog that enveloped the barren winter trees along the highway.
Damian sat in the back of the lead vehicle beside me. He had removed his bespoke dinner jacket, wearing a simple black wool coat with the collar turned up against the chill. He hadn't let go of Alyssa’s cracked pocket watch since we left the penthouse.
We pulled over onto the gravel shoulder near Mile Marker 42—the sharp, winding curve where Alyssa’s car had breached the guardrail six years earlier.
The rusted, twisted section of the steel barrier had long since been replaced with fresh galvanized metal, but the steep ravine descending toward the frozen creek below remained unchanged.
Damian stepped out of the vehicle into the freezing fog. I followed, pulling the cashmere coat tightly around myself.
He walked to the edge of the embankment, looking down into the darkness where his sister had fought for her life.
“She was twenty-one years old,” Damian murmured, the wind carrying his words across the misty valley. “She loved baking because she said it was the only thing in our world that was completely honest. If you put good ingredients in, you got something sweet out. You couldn't lie to an oven.”
A sad, gentle smile touched my lips. “She told me the exact same thing in the recovery room, Mr. Blackwood. She said her brother spent his life dealing with liars, so she wanted to make sure he had one sweet thing that was pure truth.”
Damian turned to look at me. The harsh, ruthless lines of his face were softened by the pale gray light of pre-dawn.
“Call me Damian, Maya,” he said softly. “You’ve earned that right tenfold.”
He reached into his coat and produced the forty-carat sapphire necklace. In the misty morning light, the deep blue jewel seemed to capture the sky itself.
“My mother wore this when she married my father,” Damian said, stepping closer to me until our breaths mingled in the frosty air. “She told me that the woman who wore this stone would need to possess a spirit that could withstand any storm, an unbreakable spine, and a heart capable of fierce, uncompromising loyalty.”
He lifted the heavy platinum chain, holding it poised above my shoulders.
“May I?” he asked, his voice low and rich with genuine reverence.
My heart thudded hard against my ribs. “Damian... I’m just a baker from the valley. I have flour on my sleeves and burns on my hands.”
“You are the bravest soul who has ever entered my house, Maya,” he answered firmly.
With tender, steady fingers, Damian fastened the sapphire necklace around my throat. The cold platinum warmed against my collarbones, resting perfectly against the simple black wool of my coat.
May you like
He didn't pull his hands away immediately. His fingers lingered against the curve of my neck, his gray eyes searching mine with an intensity that took my breath away.
“We have one more house to visit before the sun is up,” Damian whispered. “The Thorne mansion in Greenwich.”
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