The Godfather's Love (Erika and Charles) novel Chapter 21

Chapter 21

(Erika’s Perspective)

By the time I returned to Paris, the city lights were already glowing.

Damien came to the airport to pick me up in person.

He wore a dark navy cashmere coat today, which made his tall figure look even more upright and composed.

“Everything went smoothly?”

He took the small suitcase from my hand.

“Very smoothly,” I replied with a faint smile.

“Good.”

He opened the car door for me.

“There’s a small private gathering tonight. It’s at a private club along the Seine.”

He glanced at me.

“A few friends from the Council will be there. Also, some European collectors. I thought you might be interested.”

I looked at him.

His eyes were bright-an invitation, but also a shared understanding between us.

It was time for me to enter this world with a new identity.

“Alright.”

I didn’t hesitate.

+45 Coins

The club was tucked inside an inconspicuous old building on the Left Bank of the Seine. But inside, it was another world entirely.

High arched ceilings loomed above. Renaissance frescoes adorned the walls. The crystal chandelier scattered warm, brilliant light across the room.

Soft jazz floated through the air, mingling with low conversations in French, English, and Italian.

There weren’t many people, but every guest carried a commanding presence.

There were silver-haired patriarchs of ancient families, their eyes sharp and discerning.

There were elite professionals in their prime, navigating politics and business with ease.

And there were young visionaries like Damien, ambitious and poised.

Their conversations seemed to center around art, finance, philanthropy-but the occasional look exchanged, the veiled terminology, revealed the undercurrents beneath the surface.

Chapter 21

+45 Coins

Damien introduced me to several key figures.

“This is Miss Erika Churchill,” he said. “Our Council’s new special advisor. She’ll be overseeing transatlantic cultural and artistic heritage… exchange and

security.”

His introduction was concise, yet carried weight.

“Churchill? As in the Italian Churchill family?”

An old gentleman with a monocle looked at me with interest.

“My father is Giorgio Churchill,” I answered with a graceful nod.

Recognition and respect flickered in the man’s eyes.

“So you’re Giorgio’s daughter. Your father is a man of great integrity. Welcome to Paris, my dear.”

The others around us cast curious but friendly glances.

The Churchill name. Damien’s endorsement. My own composure and insight-together, they made my integration into this circle seamless.

We discussed the mysteries of Rembrandt’s chiaroscuro.

The use of blockchain in art provenance.

And, more discreetly, the safeguarding and relocation of certain “sensitive” collections in unstable regions.

In these exchanges, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time-my mind fully respected, fully engaged.

There was no dependence here, no compromise.

Only equal dialogue and mutual value.

Glass of champagne in hand, I stepped out onto the terrace.

Below me, the Seine shimmered under the night sky.

4

Across the river, the Eiffel Tower lit up right on time, its brilliance like a cascade of stars.

Footsteps approached behind me. It was Damien.

‘How does it feel?”

He stood beside me, gazing at the river as well.

“Good,” I said.

I took a deep breath of the crisp night air.

It cleared every corner of my chest.

“Like finally breathing the right air.”

Chapter 21

Damien chuckled softly. “That’s good to hear.”

He paused, then turned to look at me.

“There’s something I should tell you. The remaining Nell holdings in Seattle may soon attract… special attention from the East Coast.”

“Some are quite interested in the routes you took with you. And they’re not planning on negotiating nicely.”

I swirled the champagne in my glass. Tiny bubbles rose and burst.

“That’s no concern of mine,” I said calmly.

“That’s a challenge the Nell family will have to face.

I’m Churchill now.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify