Chapter 10 - THE LAST PROMISE
Maren opened the envelope with trembling fingers.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed Tess standing in the hospital rehabilitation room beside Iris.
The little girl was wearing a yellow paper crown.
Tess had both hands raised, her fingers spread like a dancer's.
Behind the photograph was a folded letter.
Maren recognized the crooked handwriting before she read a single word.
Dear Mare,
Today a little girl asked me whether people in wheelchairs are still allowed to dance.
I told her dancing doesn't belong to feet. It belongs to anyone who can feel the music.
You taught me that, remember?
Maren pressed a hand over her mouth.
She remembered.
When they were children, Tess had broken her ankle during a school recital.
She spent weeks sitting beside the bedroom window, miserable because she couldn't join her friends.
Maren had climbed onto the bed beside her.
They had made their fingers dance across the blanket.
Their mother had laughed so hard she spilled her coffee.
Tess had never forgotten.
Maren continued reading.
I don't know whether I can fix what's happening at this clinic. I'm trying to ask the right questions.
But I know something else.
There are too many children who sit watching everyone else celebrate.
Someday, when things are better, I want to give them a dance where no one has to stand up to belong.
If I can't do it, maybe you will.
Love, Tess.
Maren lowered the letter.
For a long time, she couldn't speak.
Mrs. Pike sat beside her.
“Your sister left it after she came to ask for help. She told me to keep it safe.”
“Why didn't you give it to me?”
“I was afraid it would lead to more trouble.”
Maren looked at the photograph.
“Fear made too many decisions in this house.”
Mrs. Pike nodded.
“I know.”
Maren folded the letter carefully.
“Then we have to start making different ones.”
The following morning, she showed Adrian.
He read the letter without interrupting.
When he finished, he looked toward the gardens.
“A dance where nobody has to stand.”
Maren nodded.
“Not a fundraiser for wealthy guests. Not a ceremony about how generous everyone is.”
“What, then?”
“A real party. Children from the rehabilitation programs. Their families. Music they choose. A floor everyone can use.”
Adrian considered it.
“Here?”
“Why not?”
He smiled.
“Because this house hasn't hosted anything that simple in twenty years.”
“Sounds like a good time to start.”
Planning began immediately.
Dr. Shah recommended accessible spaces, comfortable rest areas, and a schedule that wouldn't exhaust the children.
Mrs. Pike organized the kitchen staff.
Adrian arranged transportation support for families who needed it.
And Iris insisted on helping with the invitations.
She drew yellow stars on every card.
But not everyone approved.
Several members of the family foundation's board objected to using its name or resources during the ongoing investigation.
They feared negative publicity.
One board member suggested postponing everything until the Castellane name was respectable again.
Adrian listened.
Then he closed the meeting folder.
“The children shouldn't have to wait for adults to become respectable.”
He funded the celebration personally.
He also supported the independent safeguarding and governance changes the foundation needed before future charitable programs resumed.
The decision made headlines in the local press.
Some praised him.
Others questioned whether a man with his reputation deserved public trust.
Adrian didn't try to silence them.
For once, he allowed people to judge him by what he actually did next.
Maren watched him carry folding chairs into the ballroom himself.
She was surprised by how much that simple act meant.
He was learning to show up.
Not with money.
Not with threats.
With his hands.
The night before the celebration, Maren found Iris sitting quietly in the sunroom.
Her yellow dress lay across her lap.
“What's wrong, princess?”
Iris studied the fabric.
“What if the other kids stare at my brace?”
“Some might be curious.”
“What if they don't want to dance with me?”
“Then we'll find people who do. You don't have to dance with anyone you don't want to.”
Iris considered that.
“Daddy says I can pick the first song.”
“He's right.”
The little girl looked toward the hallway.
“Does Daddy still get sad about my leg?”
Maren sat beside her.
“Sometimes grown-ups feel sad because they wish something difficult hadn't happened to someone they love.”
Iris nodded slowly.
Then she asked a question that made Maren's heart ache.
“Can you get Daddy?”
“Of course.”
Adrian arrived a minute later.
Iris reached for his hand.
May you like
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Daddy, if my leg never gets better, will you still be proud of me?”
