The Ruined Bride of Velvet Nights by Brick Moving Ant

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Chapter 11

“Mom did have something she wanted to tell you before she died,” I said, gently adjusting the cashmere blanket around his shoulders.

Grand–père’s eyes fluttered open, a flicker of hope crossing his weathered face. “She thought of us at the end? What were her words, chérie?”

I gazed at him–this powerful man now so fragile against the Egyptian cotton pillows–and smiled

softly.

“I think I’ll keep that between Mom and me.”

His expression transformed from confusion to understanding. Tears welled in his eyes, but then, remarkably, he began to laugh–a gentle, knowing laugh.

hand. “You are so much

my little ballerina… Papa’s waiting for you in the garden… your

slipped away, peacefully reuniting

she had forgiven her parents. That understanding comes with time. That resentment is too heavy a suitcase to carry

was hers to give, not mine

unpayable, some words

to the Rousseau empire, my life bears no resemblance to the broken girl who once pleaded for her father’s love. The corporate headquarters in Paris, the vineyard in Bordeaux, the jet, the

the possessions mean little compared to the freedom they provide.

swim in the Mediterranean before breakfast on the terrace.

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Chapter 11

to photograph wildlife in places

barely visible