Richard was gone now. The man I had shared a lifetime, a mortgage, and a quiet, outwardly predictable marriage with had finally left the stage of this world. But in his wake, he had left behind a legacy built not on love or loyalty, but on shifting sand, hidden compartments, and meticulously falsified financial ledgers.
As the oven timer chimed softly down the hall, signaling that the pizzas and freshly baked cookies were ready, I pushed myself up from the chair and walked into the kitchen. The familiar, comforting scent of melting mozzarella, savory herbs, and sweet, baking vanilla flooded the room instantly, stripping away the accumulated dust of the decades and dragging me backward in time to afternoons when the chaotic world outside didn’t matter quite as much.
Chapter 2: The Return of the Past
Dylan was standing quietly by the kitchen counter, holding a small paper plate bearing two slices of steaming pizza. He looked up when I walked in, a small, tentative, almost apologetic smile touching the corners of his mouth.
