TWENTY- SEVEN.

I roll onto my side, stretching my aching limbs in the hope that they will gradually loosen up as I sit up in the plush hotel bed.

As I yawn and cover my mouth with my palm, I look down to find little Savannah fast asleep beside me.

Her curls envelop her heart-shaped face, her long, black lashes fan her rose-colored cheeks, and the faintest sound of her snoring resonates throughout the room.

When I look at her, my heart is filled with love and everything in my life appears to be in order.

She is the air I need to breathe to survive. Her heart is as pure as water, while her body possesses a gentle soul.

An old soul.

After we left the hospital last night, Don Valentino had Gio bring Savannah to the airport. We flew to Palmerston North. It was an hour-long flight, and it certainly beats the twelve-hour bus ride I had to take there and back just a few days ago.

True to his word, the man sold me back my mother’s ring at no extra cost. In fact, he offered it back to me at a lower price t