Chapter 10 - THE SILVER APPLE
Six months had passed since the night Arthur Sterling was arrested.
The winter snow had melted, giving way to a bright, blooming spring in New York City.
The Valentino estate was no longer a cold, imposing fortress. It was alive. The gardens were filled with flowers, the windows were thrown open to let in the breeze, and the sounds of laughter frequently echoed through the grand halls.
My mother’s health had drastically improved. Thanks to the top specialists Nicholas had flown in, her arthritis was finally manageable. She spent her afternoons walking through the estate's gardens with Vincent, the two of them forming a deep, quiet bond built on their shared survival.
Mrs. Harper had moved into a beautiful, fully renovated ground-floor apartment just blocks from the newly opened Helen and Evelyn Community Center on Sullivan Street. She spent every day there, reading to the neighborhood children, wearing her silver apple brooch with pride.
And as for me, I had stepped into a role I never imagined for myself.
I was officially the Director of Charitable Operations for Valentino Holdings. I ran the community center, ensuring that no child in the neighborhood ever went to school hungry or cold.
It was a Tuesday evening, and the mansion was quiet.
I was sitting on the floor of Nicholas’s grand office, surrounded by blueprints for a second community center we were planning to build in Queens.
The heavy oak doors opened, and Nicholas walked in.
He was wearing a tailored navy suit, having just returned from a board meeting, but the moment he saw me on the floor, the ruthless CEO vanished.
He loosened his tie, took off his jacket, and dropped onto the floor right next to me, sighing heavily.
“Boring meeting?” I asked, smiling as I handed him a blueprint.
“Terrible,” he groaned, pulling me into his lap. “They spent two hours arguing over profit margins. I spent two hours thinking about how much I wanted to come home and kiss you.”
I laughed, wrapping my arms around his neck as he kissed me deeply, his hands tangling in my hair.
“You’re a distraction,” I murmured against his lips.
“I try to be,” he smirked.
He pulled back, his expression turning slightly more serious. He reached into his suit jacket pocket.
“I have something for you,” he said softly.
I sat up a little straighter. “You bought me another gift, Nicholas? I told you, I don't need any more designer shoes.”
“It’s not shoes,” he smiled, pulling out a small velvet box.
My heart skipped a beat.
He opened the box.
Inside wasn't a diamond engagement ring. It was a beautiful, custom-made silver brooch, shaped exactly like a tiny apple.
But unlike Mrs. Harper’s, this one was inlaid with a single, flawless diamond in the center.
I stared at it, tears instantly welling in my eyes.
“Arthur Sterling gave the cheap silver ones as a symbol of fear and silence,” Nicholas said quietly, taking the brooch out of the box. “I wanted to give you one as a symbol of exactly the opposite.”
He pinned it gently to the lapel of my cardigan.
“A symbol of courage,” Nicholas whispered, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “Because you didn't stay silent. You saved my father’s life. You saved my life.”
I touched the cold silver of the apple, completely overwhelmed.
“It’s beautiful, Nicholas,” I breathed.
“It’s a placeholder,” he said casually.
I blinked. “A placeholder?”
Nicholas shifted, gently sliding me off his lap so he could properly drop to one knee right there on the floor of his office, amidst the scattered blueprints.
He reached into his other pocket and pulled out a second velvet box.
This one he opened to reveal a breathtaking, vintage diamond ring.
“I took my grandfather’s ring back from Rebecca the night I broke the engagement,” Nicholas said softly. “It belonged to my grandmother. She was a kind, generous woman who loved my grandfather fiercely, even when they had nothing.”
He looked up at me, his eyes shining with a profound, terrifyingly deep love.
“I was an idiot to give it to someone who only valued what I owned,” Nicholas whispered. “Because a man’s worth isn't measured by his bank account.”
“It’s measured by how he treats people,” I finished the quote, crying freely now.
Nicholas smiled, taking my trembling hand in his.
“Sophie Mitchell,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Will you marry me? Will you build a life with me, and help me spend the rest of my days trying to be worthy of you?”
I couldn't even speak. I just threw my arms around his neck, knocking us both backward onto the floor, laughing and sobbing at the same time.
“Yes,” I cried into his shoulder. “Yes, a million times.”
Nicholas laughed, a rich, joyous sound that filled the room, holding me tightly against his chest.
May you like
When he finally slipped the vintage diamond ring onto my finger, it fit perfectly.
Just like we did.
