At seventeen, my family name could erase almost any mistake before it reached the outside world, but that afternoon, sitting inside a police station with dried blood on my face and a suspension

The failed attack on Fairhaven Manor sent shockwaves through the city. The Moretti family was completely dismantled within forty-eight hours after Julian Cavanaugh unleashed his full legal, corporate, and political power upon learning his home had been invaded.

For the first time in his career, Julian cancelled all his international meetings and flew back to Fairhaven on his private jet, arriving at the mansion early the next morning.

The house was still undergoing repairs. Workers were replacing the terrace glass and fixing the kitchen island.

Julian walked through the foyer, his face dark as a thundercloud. He gathered all four of us in the grand library, along with Eleanor.

"This ends now," Julian announced, his voice booming across the room as he paced before the fireplace. "The security in this city is compromised. I have made arrangements to send Lucas to our European headquarters in Geneva. Ethan and Caleb will be enrolled in a elite boarding school in Switzerland starting next month. And Noah will be placed in a private residential facility in Boston with around-the-clock medical specialists."

The room went dead, suffocatingly quiet.

It was Julian's ultimate solution: disperse the family, hide the problems, and solve everything with money and distance.

"No," a voice spoke from the corner of the room.

Julian froze, turning slowly. "What did you say, Ethan?"

"I said no," I repeated, standing up from my chair. "We aren't going to Switzerland. And Noah isn't going to Boston."

"You do not dictate terms in this family, Ethan!" Julian barked, his eyes flashing with authority. "I am your father!"

"Then start acting like one!" Caleb yelled, jumping up beside me. "You haven't been here for two years! You think throwing us into boarding schools thousands of miles away makes you a father? We aren't leaving!"

"Lucas," Julian turned to his eldest son, expecting him to enforce order. "Control your brothers."

Lucas remained sitting in the high-backed leather chair by the window. He looked up at our father, his expression completely unreadable.

"They're right, Dad," Lucas said quietly.

Julian looked as if he had been slapped across the face. "What?"

"We're staying here," Lucas said, standing up to his full height, matching our father's commanding presence frame for frame. "We're staying together. For the first time since Mom died, this house actually feels like a home. And we aren't letting you destroy it just because you don't know how to deal with your own grief."

Julian stood frozen, staring at his three eldest sons standing shoulder to shoulder in front of him. He looked like a king whose army had just mutinied in a single afternoon.

"This is your doing," Julian said, turning his burning gaze onto Eleanor, who stood quietly near the library door. "You turned my sons against me."

Eleanor stepped forward, her posture regal and unyielding.

"I didn't turn them against you, Mr. Cavanaugh," she said gently. "I simply stood by them while you were gone. They don't want your fortune. They want your presence. If you send them away now, you will lose them forever."

Julian opened his mouth to deliver a furious rebuttal, but before he could utter a single word, something extraordinary happened.

A tiny figure walked out from behind Eleanor's skirt.

Eight-year-old Noah stepped into the center of the room. He looked up at our billionaire father, his big brown eyes clear, steady, and free of fear.