Chapter 10 - A New Dawn
A year to the day since the night the music stopped in the ballroom, we didn't hold a grand gala or invite elite socialites.
Instead, we had a small, messy birthday party on the back deck in Big Sur. There was a chocolate cake covered in far too many multi-colored sprinkles, a singing card that played a terrible rendition of a birthday tune, and no guests except for the two of us and the endless expanse of the ocean.
Sophie blew out her four candles in one mighty puff, sending smoke swirling up into the evening air while I cheered and clapped until my hands stung.
Later, after she was tucked safely into her bed, fast asleep with her favorite stuffed rabbit and the old red flannel scrap tucked securely beneath her pillow, I stood on the balcony with a cup of coffee and looked out at the stars.
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The wind was quiet. The ocean was calm. The heavy, suffocating weight of the D'Angelo name was gone, replaced by something infinitely more precious—a quiet home, a rescued child, and a love that could never be broken.
The music hadn't stopped forever that night in the ballroom; it had simply paused, waiting for a little girl to find her way home. And now, the music was playing again, sweeter and clearer than ever before.
