Mountains rose on the horizon like giants sleeping under blankets of stone and forest. Pines stretched in every direction, sharp and dark and ancient. Yellow grass danced in the wind, blinking gold under the sun. The sky—Gott im Himmel, the sky—was enormous. Bigger than Berlin, bigger than anything I'd ever imagined. I felt small under it, but not in the way rubble made me feel small.
This smallness was awe.
"This place…" I whispered, unable to look away. "It feels like it goes on forever."
"It does," Gideon said, voice warm with pride. "This is freedom, sweetheart. Real freedom."
I squeezed his hand. "And this… all of this… is truly your home."
He glanced at me with that look he reservedonly for me, soft, hungry, hopeful. "Ours," he said quietly. "If you want it."
I leaned my head on his shoulder, heart full and overflowing. "I do."
He inhaled shakily, like my words hit him deeper than he expected. Outside the window, the children pointed at everything: horses grazing in distant pastures, tall fences, herds of cattle, barns with red peeling paint, and creeks glinting like silver threads. Their laughter bounced through the truck bed and into my veins like light.
"Gideon!" Klaus shouted through the open window. "Are those cows?"
"Longhorns," Gideon called back.
"Are those… American cows?" Axel asked, awed and confused.
Gideon chuckled. "The most American cows you'll ever meet."
Hilde squealed as a hawk soared overhead, wings spread wide. I watched its shadow ripple over the grass. I couldn't help it; my eyes prickled with tears. Everything was so big. So clean. So full of promise.
I stared at everything, at Gideon's hand holding mine. At mountains rising to meet us. At the children laughing in the wind. At a life finally beginning.
"Do you think your family will like me?" I asked softly.
Gideon brought my hand to his lips. "They're going to adore you, Inga. How could they not?"
While the truck turned to rumble down the dirt road leading to theGriffin Ranch, its white fences gleaming in the sunlight, I believed him.
I truly believed him.
We drove a little farther in silence, the wind whipping softly through the windows, the children's laughter trailing behind us like ribbons in the air. My hand stayed wrapped in Gideon's, his thumb brushing back and forth in slow, sure strokes that made my chest feel warm.
Then a thought slid into my mind, hesitant, almost embarrassed. "Gideon?" I asked quietly.
"Mm?"
I gestured out the window at the endless sweep of grassland, hills rolling like a green ocean all the way to the foothills of the mountains. It had been a while since we passed a large gate and a sign readingGriffin Ranch. "This land…" I began carefully. "Is all this—" I swallowed. "Part of your family's ranch?"
He glanced at me, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, a little shy, a little proud. "Yeah," he said. "Just about everything you see from here to those two ridgelines, and beyond the creek, across that valley… all ours."
My jaw dropped.
"All of it?" I squeaked.
"All forty-five thousand acres," he said, as casually as if he were talking about a garden plot.
Forty-five thousand acres.
My mind couldn't even comprehend that number. Forty-five thousand acres in Berlin held whole districts. Thousands of families. Blocks of buildings.
Here… it was sky and earth and wind. Open. Wild. Free. And it all belonged to him. To his family.
My breath caught. "Gideon… you're… rich."
