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Dante paused at the threshold of the Butterfly Room, his gaze sweeping over the vibrant chaos of a preschool paradise. The room burst with unbridled imagination. The walls, a gallery of finger-painted masterpieces and crayon-colored dreams, watched over a dollhouse frozen mid-narrative and an art area speckled with the remains of creative endeavors. His gaze landed on Nanny J, Moses’ wife. She gave him a long look that he was sure caused many a Little to fidget, but then her eyes softened and she tilted her head toward the far corner of the room.
It was then that Dante heard Sadie’s laughter bubbling up from a fortress of blankets, her hair a dark cascade over a throw pillow, her hands animated as she recounted some shared mischief. Erika sat with gentle authority among the bean bag chairs, her posture relaxed but attentive.
Beside them, a young man lounged, his coverall jean shorts and a defiant T-shirt broadcasting his protected status with bold lettering that leapt out at Dante. “BACK OFF! I have a MOMMY and I ain’t afraid to use her!”
Dante laughed at the T-shirt but then sobered. Rebecca’s absence hung in the air like a held breath, her spirit the missing brushstroke in the room’s living painting.
“Hello, you three,” Dante’s voice broke through the mirth. “I’m looking for Rebecca. I was told she’s here.”
The trio looked up, their faces turning like sunflowers to the sun. Sadie spoke first. Her expression was one of feigned surprise and mischief. “Becca? Nope. Haven’t seen her. Have you?” Her words danced on the edge of conspiracy, the twinkle in her eye suggesting a tale yet untold.
“Nu-huh.” The boy shook his head before burying his face in the stuffie he was clutching.
Dante narrowed his eyes and was about to ask more questions when the room echoed with a muffled sneeze and the pile of blankets at the pranksters’ feet moved. Sadie slapped a hand over her mouth and giggled, her expression a blend of amusement and shame.
Dante crossed the room in three deliberate steps and pulled back the blankets. Face a dark red and her shoulders shaking with laughter, Rebecca peered up at him.
“Um, hi, Daddy.” She giggled.
Dante couldn’t help but smile. Master, Sir, or Daddy—they all made him feel incredible, but what was even more satisfying was the knowledge that his woman was all right and he was about to make her life even better.
EPILOGUE
One Year Later
The soft hum of the neighborhood was a subtle reminder of life’s perpetual motion as Dante and Rebecca stood on the balcony. There hadn’t been a moment’s hesitation in moving from the city once Rebecca had confessed she felt a bit trapped living in what she described as a concrete jungle. Dante hadn’t cared where they lived as long as they were together. Instead of looking out over streets full of cars, their view was of the lake. The cacophony of horns, sirens, and the revving of engines had been replaced with birdsong, the chirping of insects, and the rustling of leaves. Buildings that rose high in the sky had been exchanged for towering trees whose canopies shaded the house. The air filled with the aroma of freshly cut grass and flowers blooming in gardens made each breath refreshing. Yes, he had to thank his stowaway for knowing moving had been a very wise decision.
Tonight, the cool Missoula night air contrasted with the warmth of the celebration inside, echoing with soft jazz and the murmur of contented guests.
Rebecca’s gaze was fixed on the last rays of the sun’s light dancing over the water, a stark difference from the dark past she’d overcome. “From that courtroom to this moment... it feels surreal,” she whispered, her voice carrying the weight and relief of justice served.
Dante wrapped an arm around her, his eyes reflecting his inner peace. “Our fight gave all those abused women a voice,” he said, referring to the trial’s conclusion. “And now, we’ll amplify it through your foundation and my prosecutions.”
They shared a moment of silence, looking back at the party—a mingling of laughter, clinking glasses, and the promise of new beginnings. It was a celebration of not only the legal victory over Ethan and Jango, but the establishment of a foundation made possible by the compensation she and other victims had been awarded by the courts and donations from people wishing to help. She’d vowed the money would be used in the collective effort to aid other victims in healing. She’d fallen ever deeper in love with Dante when he’d vowed to match every penny and use it to educate the public about human trafficking.
The sun dipped lower, casting a golden glow over the lake.
“Hard to believe it’s over, isn’t it?” Rebecca mused, her voice tinged with reflective sobriety.
Dante gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s not over, Rebecca. It’s just a new beginning,” he said, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “The trial... it was a kind of closure, but what we’re building now—your foundation, my work—it’s the start of something even bigger.”
Rebecca leaned into him, her eyes bright with the passion of someone who has not just survived but thrived in the face of adversity. “To think, those men are finally paying for what they’ve done. It doesn’t erase the past, but...” She trailed off, finding comfort in Dante’s unwavering support.
“It’s justice, in its own way,” Dante finished for her.
Rebecca smiled as she thought about the foundation she had started. “And tomorrow, we go to the high school to talk about the dangers of those lover-boys,” she said, a term that once held so much pain now being used as a weapon to educate and protect.
Dante’s chest swelled with pride at her words, at the strong, determined woman she had become. “And I’ll be there with you every step of the way. As a prosecutor, I can fight them in the courtroom, but together, we can hopefully prevent the crime before it begins.”
The distant sound of clinking glasses and soft music reminded them of the present, of the celebration inside. “They’re waiting for us,” Rebecca said, gesturing toward the bustling crowd behind them.
“Ready to go back in?” Dante asked, his voice filled with hope for what lay ahead: a future of advocacy and action.
Rebecca nodded, her resolve as bright as the stars appearing in the night sky. “Let’s show them what new beginnings look like.”
Rebecca’s declaration hung between them as a vow, and with it, they turned back into the fold of friends and celebrants. Their home, brimming with voices and warmth, seemed to wrap around them as they mingled with their guests. Dante, ever the anchor in her world of once-chaotic seas, stayed close as they navigated the room filled with allies and advocates.
They shared stories with Roger MacIntosh, whose work alongside Dante had grown into a valued friendship. His insights into the justice system added a layer of depth to their light-hearted conversations, bridging the professional with the personal.
