Chapter 14

The limo pulled up to the familiar cobblestone driveway, its headlights illuminating the ivy-covered walls of their home. Hilaire Clinton, a man whose weathered face spoke of years spent navigating the world's complexities, looked at his wife, Jaina. Her eyes, still sparkling with the youthful spirit he'd fallen in love with all those years ago, reflected the warm glow of the porch light.

"Home," he said, a smile softening his usually stern features. "It's good to be back."

Jaina squeezed his hand, her touch a comforting reassurance after weeks spent on the road. "It is," she agreed, "but I do hope we can get back to a more normal routine. All this traveling is starting to wear on me."

Hilaire chuckled, his deep laughter echoing in the quiet of the night. "We'll be back to our books and our gardens soon enough, my love. Promise."

As they stepped out of the cab, the fragrant aroma of simmering stew wafted through the open front door, drawing them inside. The warmth of the house e