The Billionaire's Intern (Maya Thompson) novel Chapter 382

Chapter 172: Where Silence Lives-3

The garden opened before them.

Manicured hedges traced winding paths of pale gravel, their symmetry softened by time. Old oaks stood along the perimeter, branches arching overhead, leaves whispering with the breeze. Stone benches rested beneath climbing vines, untouched, patient. Farther out, the land rolled gently, dissolving into forest, green bleeding into green until the boundary disappeared altogether.

Maya slowed without meaning to.

The air here felt different-warmer, lighter-carrying the scent of jasmine, grass, and earth. Somewhere nearby, water murmured, steady and unhurried, as if the place itself breathed at its own pace.

Dahlia walked beside her, steps unhurried, her presence calm and assured.

“This place,” she said quietly, eyes forward, “reminds you that silence isn’t empty.”

Maya followed the garden’s curve, noticing how it didn’t fight the forest but lived alongside it -balanced, intentional.

They stopped at a small gazebo built around a massive tree at its center. The trunk rose through the wooden floor, ancient and thick, its bark carved with faint markings softened by

time.

Dahlia stepped closer. Her hand lifted, fingers settling into one of the carvings as if it belonged there.

Maya noticed.

Her breath caught as her eyes followed the lines etched into the bark. Two letters. Simple.

Intentional.

1. M.

Something shifted inside her-quiet, sudden-pieces snapping together before she could stop them.

“DM?” Maya whispered.

Dahlia smiled, but her eyes shone with emotion.

“Dahlia and Malia.”

suited 172 Where Silence Lives 3

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She kept her hand against the tree. “Your mother and I used to come here all the time. Especially when we didn’t want the men to find us.” A soft laugh escaped her. “This was our favorite spot.”

She brushed her palm along the trunk.

“This is where we spoke freely. Where we said everything we couldn’t say anywhere else-no filters, no expectations.” Her voice lowered. “And this tree…” She patted the bark gently. “It witnessed it all. The laughter. The tears. The anger. The sadness. Everything.”

Maya swallowed hard.

“Uncle Dominic… he doesn’t know about this place?” she asked quietly.

Dahlia shook her head.

“No. Neither does Damien.”

Maya frowned, confusion threading through her emotions.

“But… you said this is your great-grandmother’s home.”

“It is,” Dahlia said. Then, after a pause, she turned toward the bench beneath the gazebo.

“Come. Let’s sit.”

They did.

Dahlia faced her fully now, expression serious in a way Maya hadn’t seen before.

“Maya… there’s something I want to share with you.” She inhaled slowly. “Something I chose to keep to myself.”

Maya stiffened.

“It’s a secret my husband and my son don’t know,” Dahlia continued. “Not Charles. Not Eleonor. Not even the Morettis.” Her gaze held Maya’s. “I’m trusting you with it.”

Maya’s heart began to race.

Dahlia took a steady breath.

“My mother’s side of the family,” she said quietly, “are the Harringtons.”

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