Page 6 of Broken Destiny

Marjorie squeezed my arm gently.

I looked down at the envelope again.

Every instinct inside me wanted to open it immediately, but this felt too personal.

Whatever Cole had written inside, it had been meant only for me.

Carefully, I slipped the envelope into my purse before looking back at the display one last time.

Even now, after everything, he had somehow found another way to reach me.

“This entire display isn't for sale,” she said, glancing toward the photographs and paintings surrounding us. “Cole had been working on it for a long time. He wanted it to belong to you.”

This was the surprise!

All those hours. All those secretive smiles whenever I asked what he was working on. All those times he had promised I would see it when it was finished.

He had been in pain and struggling. Yet he had pushed himself to complete this gift for me, pouring his love into every brushstroke.

“Thank you for everything and for helping him,” I said, my voice trembling. “I know Andrea and you are worried about what is going to happen to your jobs once the gallery is closed, but?—”

“No, we are not,” Marjorie interrupted.

My head jerked back. “What do you mean?”

“We are going to be working in Liam’s company once we’re done here,” she explained. “Liam already knows about it.”

Cole had indeed planned everything. He had taken care of everyone, even in his absence.

Bless you, Cole.Emotion swelled inside my chest again, and a quiet prayer formed in my heart.I miss you. I miss you so much!

“Most of his pictures are sold,” Marjorie said, smiling widely. “I took a walk earlier and saw many red dots on the pictures in the bottom right corner.”

“Red dots?” I asked, trying to comprehend what she meant.

“Yes. We gave all the guests a strip of personalized red-dot stickers. If they wanted to purchase a picture, they would place a sticker on the bottom right corner, signalling to the other guests that the artwork had already been purchased.”

“That’s a fantastic idea.”

“Cole came up with it,” Marjorie remarked.

My chest expanded as I inhaled slowly, filling my lungs as though I needed the air to steady myself. I was proud of Cole—of his talent, of his generosity, of the way he had poured himself into everything he created. He had worked so hard, pushing through pain and exhaustion.

He might not be standing beside me physically, his hand resting at the small of my back the way it used to, but I felt his presence everywhere. It lingered in the laughter of the guests, in the admiration in their eyes as they studied his work, in the quiet buzz of the room that carried his spirit through every corner of the gallery.

You did it, Cole. You made this happen.

And somehow, I believed he was still watching over us—over the children and me—with the same devotion he had shown when he was alive.

Andrea approached me and handed me a strip of plain red dot stickers. The small sheet felt surprisingly heavy in my hand, as though it carried the weight of memories into each circle.

Taking another slow walk around the gallery by myself, while the children remained safely tucked in the loving arms of Jack and Maureen, I studied the photographs once more. Each image felt like a window into Cole’s soul, revealing pieces of the man I had loved so fiercely.

Then my steps slowed.

My heart recognized the picture.

It was the photograph he had taken of the scenic backdrop of the resort where he had proposed to me—the place where my life had changed forever, where he had dropped to one knee and looked up at me with hope shining in his eyes.