The billionaire pretended to leave for Canada... But what he witnessed on the hidden cameras between his housekeeper and his daughters left him completely frozen.

Two Boston police officers marched up the grand staircase, their handcuffs clinking against their duty belts.

"Sabina Vance," the lead officer announced, pulling her arms roughly behind her back. "You are under arrest for grand larceny, attempted corporate espionage, and breaking and entering. You have the right to remain silent..."

"Get your filthy hands off me!" Sabina shrieked, kicking her heels against the marble floor as the officers snapped the heavy steel cuffs around her wrists. "Do you know who I am? My family owns half this city! Chadworth, tell them to stop! You can't do this to me!"

Chadworth bent down, picked up his late wife’s sapphire pendant from the floor, and carefully wiped a speck of dust from the precious blue stone.

"I didn't do this to you, Sabina," Chadworth said, looking her straight in the eyes without a trace of pity left in his heart. "You did this to yourself the moment you made my daughters fear their own home."

As the officers dragged the screaming, hysterical socialite down the staircase and out through the grand front entrance, Marcus stepped forward, holding a tablet displaying live media updates.

"Mr. Prescott," Marcus reported calmly. "The state police have just executed a simultaneous search warrant at Arthur Vance's corporate headquarters downtown. He's currently being taken into federal custody for conspiracy and market manipulation."

"Good," Chadworth said coldly. "Ensure my legal team files civil suits against both of them by eight o'clock tomorrow morning. I want their assets frozen and their reputations completely erased from this city."

Marcus nodded respectfully. "Consider it done, sir."

Chadworth turned back to Rosamund. The young housekeeper was leaning slightly against the wooden banister, looking exhausted, her hair somewhat disheveled from the brief struggle.

"Rosamund," Chadworth said, his voice thick with unexpressed emotion.

"Yes, Mr. Prescott?"

"Come with me, please."

He walked down the long upstairs corridor toward his daughters' bedroom. Rosamund followed him quietly, her key ring jingling softly in her hand.

Chadworth unlocked the heavy oak door and pushed it open gently.

Inside, ten-year-old Lorelai was sitting on the floor, holding a heavy brass candlestick she had taken from the nightstand, standing guard over her little sister, who was curled up on the bed under her blankets.

When the door opened, Lorelai raised the candlestick defensively, her small face set in a fierce, protective stance.

"Lorelai, it's me," Chadworth said softly, stepping into the room and opening his arms wide.

The candlestick fell onto the rug with a soft thud. Lorelai stared at her father for a second, then burst into uncontrollable sobs, sprinting across the room and throwing herself into his arms. Gemma scrambled out of bed and joined them, wrapping her tiny arms around her father's neck.

"Daddy! You came back! You came back!" Gemma cried, burying her wet face in his suit jacket.

Chadworth dropped to his knees, pulling both of his daughters tight against his chest, tears streaming down his own face without restraint. He kissed their hair, holding them as if he were trying to weld them to his heart.

"I'm so sorry, my sweet girls," Chadworth sobbed softly, his voice breaking completely. "I am so, so sorry. Daddy is here now. Nobody is ever going to hurt you again. I promise you. I promise."

Over his daughters' shoulders, Chadworth looked up at Rosamund, who stood in the doorway, wiping a quiet tear from her cheek.