Part 20: The View from the Harbor
## Part 20: The View from the Harbor
The wind off the Atlantic was cold, carrying the first smell of the northern snow that was heading toward the Boston channel.
I stood on the wraparound balcony of the Custom House loft, my hand resting flat against the cold stone railing, watching the golden afternoon sun sink behind the skyline of the city.
The harbor was alive with moving ships, their containers shuffling in a perfect, silent rhythm under the guidance of my new software.
Theodore Ashford was in a federal hospital prison wing.
Priscilla was in a cell in Muncy.
My father was processing his intake records at a penitentiary in Florida.
The old money that had tried to crush me beneath its presentation was gone, dissolved into a matrix of forensic audits and asset forfeiture decrees.
Liam walked out onto the balcony behind me, his long coat open to the wind, his arm sliding around my waist to pull me against his side.
He didn't say anything at first.
We just stood there, watching the lights of the city snap on one by one under the dark blue sky, turning the gray harbor into a long sheet of gold and diamond streaks.
"The Malta team just checked in, Cora," he said softly, his breath warm against my neck.
"The sonar sweep confirmed the hull location at three hundred meters."
"The gold is there."
"Let it stay in the sand for a while, Liam," I whispered, leaning my head against his shoulder.
"We have enough capital on the books to manage the winter."
He smiled, his fingers tightening around mine, his gray eyes catching the reflection of the harbor lights.
"The Ashfords spent two years trying to teach you your place, Cora," he said.
"They wanted you to believe you were just a girl who fixed old things in a basement."
"I am the woman who owns the ledger now, Liam," I said, looking out at the open sky beyond the channel.
The storm was over.
May you like
The threads were aligned.
And for the first time in twenty-seven years, the view from my house was absolutely beautiful.
