Chapter 9 - The Garden on Rue de la Paix
In late October, I arrived at my private estate in the French countryside just outside Bordeaux—a historic stone chateau surrounded by acres of quiet vineyards, ancient oak trees, and soaring wrought-iron gates.
I had purchased the property six months earlier as a personal sanctuary—a place far removed from the cold corporate towers of Boston, far removed from courtroom battles, prison walls, and broken promises.
The afternoon sun was soft and warm, casting a pale, golden light across the rolling green hills.
I walked down the manicured stone paths of the terrace, dressed in a comfortable cream cashmere sweater, white linen trousers, and flat leather sandals. The air smelled of damp earth, crushed grapes, and wild lavender.
A young French estate manager named Jean walked beside me, holding a clipboard.
"Madame Laurent," Jean said respectfully, pointing toward a massive circular garden bed sitting in the center of the lawn. "The landscaping team has cleared the old rose bushes as requested. They are ready to plant whatever flowers you desire for the coming spring."
I stopped at the edge of the large dirt circle, looking at the rich, dark soil waiting to be filled.
For years, sunflowers had been a symbol of my bondage—a cheap floral gesture used by a cheating husband to cover up his crimes, a hollow token offered at prison gates to manipulate my feelings. For three years, I had banned them from my sight, treating them as a reminder of my pain.
I looked up at the vast, clear blue sky, feeling the warm autumn wind brush gently against my skin.
I realized then that Michael hadn't ruined sunflowers. I had allowed my memory of him to poison something beautiful.
"Plant sunflowers, Jean," I said softly, a deep, peaceful smile spreading across my lips.
Jean blinked, surprised. "Sunflowers, Madame? An entire field?"
May you like
"An entire field," I confirmed, turning to look him straight in the eye. "Tall ones. The ones that turn their faces directly toward the light, no matter how cold the night was."
Jean smiled warmly, bowing his head. "It will be done, Madame. By May, this entire valley will be golden."
