When Bruce had looked toward the railroad from the car earlier, he had spotted a long-haired woman in a nightgown standing beside a horse.
The night wind lifted her hair and the hem of her gown, making her look like a runaway princess as she watched a train roar past her.
He thought he was dreaming.
He asked Alfred to stop the car. Afraid to shatter that beautiful dream, he had Alfred check who the woman was first.
Only when she turned her head and he saw her face clearly did he confirm that he wasn't dreaming.
It really was Ririko.
But hadn't she died?
He had attended her funeral, delivered a eulogy for her, and watched her coffin lowered into the ground at the cemetery...
Yet now she stood before him beside a horse.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't understand what was going on...
"Who are you?" he asked instinctively.
Ririko was overjoyed.
She quickly composed herself, hiding all her little schemes concerning Bruce deep inside and replacing them with a hint of weariness and the joy of a long-awaited reunion.
She lowered her head and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"It's me, Ririko." She delivered the story she had rehearsed countless times. "I'm a distant relative of Falcone. Sofia was worried Jerome would come after me for revenge, so she had me fake my death."
The moment Bruce heard that, his doubts vanished.
So that was it! She really wasn't dead! He wasn't dreaming!
A smile spread across his handsome face. For the first time in days, he smiled without reservation.
He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms.
Ririko rested her chin in the crook of his shoulder, breathing in a clean scent, like a quilt warmed by the winter