Read on to the next chapter and find out what happens next.

-7-

The fallout from Tuesday morning’s boardroom exposé hit the financial news networks by lunchtime. Vance Global Real Estate issued an emergency press release distancing themselves entirely from Sterling PR, while investigative reporters began circling Eleanor Vance’s estate like vultures sensing blood in the water.

I was back in my midtown office, reviewing international shipping manifests with Chloe, when my phone chimed with a calendar notification.

3:00 PM - Parent-Teacher Conference at the Upper West Side Academy.

I smiled softly to myself. No matter how many corporate empires crumbled or how many high-society scandals erupted across Manhattan, the triplets still had spelling tests on Wednesday afternoon.

I gathered my coat, walked out of my office, and took the private elevator down to the ground floor. As I stepped out through the revolving glass doors into the afternoon sunshine, I noticed a familiar black Maybach parked by the curb.

Julian was leaning against the passenger door, his coat unbuttoned, looking tired but lighter—as if a five-year-old anchor had finally been lifted from his chest.

When he saw me exit the building, he pushed off the car and walked over, stopping a few feet away, respecting the invisible boundary I had maintained all week.

“I just came from my mother’s townhouse,” Julian said quietly, his voice steady. “She’s refusing to answer my calls. Her legal team is scrambling to contain the fallout from the hospital payoff audits Marcus uncovered. She’s isolated.”

“You didn't have to break with your mother on my account, Julian,” I said, pulling my handbag strap over my shoulder.

“I didn't do it for you, Clara,” he replied, looking straight into my eyes with a quiet, unwavering sincerity. “I did it for myself. And more importantly, I did it for my children—the children I neglected because I was too blind to see the monsters living under my own roof.”

I studied his face for a long moment, searching for any trace of the arrogant, untouchable CEO I had walked away from five years ago. He was gone. What remained was a man who had been humbled by fire and rebuilt by truth.

“They have your eyebrows, you know,” I said softly, a faint smile touching my lips.

Julian’s breath hitched. His eyes widened, swimming with sudden, unshed emotion. “Clara... does that mean...?”

“It means you have visiting rights, Julian,” I corrected gently, stepping past him toward the sidewalk. “Starting this Saturday morning at the uptown park. No lawyers, no bodyguards, no press. Just you, me, and three kids who love building Lego castles.”

Julian stood frozen for a second, absorbing the words, before a radiant, genuine smile broke across his face—the first real smile I had seen from him in half a decade.

“Saturday morning,” he repeated, his voice thick with gratitude. “I’ll bring the Lego sets.”