The helicopter descent into the Swiss Alps felt like entering another world. The noise and grime of the city were replaced by an endless expanse of pristine, blinding white.
The Croft family’s private chalet sat nestled on a high ridge, a masterpiece of timber and glass that overlooked a valley of pine trees. It was completely isolated, accessible only by air or a single winding mountain road.
“It is… magnifico,” Isabella Rossi breathed, pressing her hand to the window as the chopper touched down.
William helped Victoria out, the cold mountain air biting their cheeks. He carried Leo, who was bundled in a thick snowsuit that made him look like a starfish.
“No press,” William promised, surveying the empty horizon. “No board members. No Arthur Sterling. Just us.”
They entered the chalet. It was warm, smelling of cedar and woodsmoke. A massive stone fireplace dominated the living room, and floor-to-ceiling windows framed the majestic peaks outside.
Victoria spun in a circle, feeling the tension of the last year drain out of her body. “It’s perfect.”
“It’s a sanctuary,” Isabella agreed, taking Leo from William. “I will take the little lion to the nursery. You two… breathe.”