The billionaire switched off the lights in his mansion, grabbed his suitcase, and said goodbye to his daughters as though the trip were completely real.

The afternoon sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Chadworth’s private study, casting warm, amber light across the dark mahogany furnishings. The heavy smell of incense and fresh pine filled the room, replacing the synthetic perfume Sabina had left behind.

Chadworth sat behind his desk, reviewing a thick stack of financial audits and legal affidavits provided by his private investigation team. Marcus stood across from him, tapping a tablet screen to update the real-time data feeds.

"It's worse than we initially thought, sir," Marcus reported, swiping through a series of offshore bank accounts. "Sabina wasn't acting alone. She was backed by a secondary shell corporation registered in the Cayman Islands—Aegis Holdings."

Chadworth looked up, his brow furrowing. "Aegis Holdings? That's a subsidiary of Vance International. Her family’s former shipping company that went bankrupt five years ago."

"Precisely," Marcus confirmed. "Her family lost their fortune in the collapse. Sabina’s entire engagement to you was a orchestrated corporate recovery strategy. She had signed a third-party agreement with an offshore hedge fund, promising to transfer fifteen percent of Prescott Enterprises' liquid assets into Aegis accounts once she secured legal power of attorney over your estate."

Chadworth slammed his palm against the desk, the heavy wood vibrating. "She was trying to dismantle my life’s work to bail out her family's debt. And my daughters were just collateral damage in her timeline."

"Yes, sir," Marcus continued. "She planned to isolate the girls, build a legal case that you were emotionally unfit due to grief, and eventually have you committed or forced into a quiet retirement while she managed the estate trust."

A soft knock at the door interrupted the heavy conversation.

"Come in," Chadworth said, his voice instantly softening.

The door pushed open, and Rosamund walked into the study. She was no longer wearing the faded black-and-white maid's uniform. Instead, she wore a simple, elegant navy blue dress that Chadworth’s personal shopper had delivered earlier that afternoon. Her dark hair fell softly over her shoulders, and for the first time since she had entered this house, the heavy, vigilant strain on her face was gone.

"Mr. Prescott," she said politely. "The girls are finished with their afternoon lessons. They asked if you would join them in the garden before dinner."

Chadworth stood up immediately, walking out from behind the desk. "Rosamund, please. I told you this morning—call me Chadworth. You are family in this house now. You will never wear a uniform or take orders in this estate again."

Rosamund offered a modest, gentle smile. "Old habits die hard, Chadworth. I spent two years keeping my head down."

"Which is two years too long," Chadworth said firmly. He walked over to her, gesturing toward the leather armchair across from his desk. "Please, sit for a moment. Marcus and I were just reviewing the final police reports."

Rosamund sat down quietly, smoothing her dress. "Is she... will she be able to make bail?"

"Not a chance," Marcus answered with a sharp smirk. "The District Attorney added federal wire fraud and attempted grand theft to the indictment based on the audio recordings from the study. The judge set bail at ten million dollars, cash only. Her family doesn't have ten thousand."

Rosamund exhaled a long, quiet breath, her shoulders visibly relaxing. "Good. The girls were afraid she might come back."

Chadworth sat in the armchair beside her, looking at her with deep, earnest contemplation. "Rosamund, I want to discuss your future—and the girls' future."

Rosamund looked up, a faint flicker of apprehension returning to her eyes. "My future?"

"You sacrificed two years of your life," Chadworth said, his tone rich with emotion. "You lived in a cramped maid's room in the west wing, taking minimum wage, protecting my children from a distance. That ends today."

He pulled a thick folder from the table and handed it to her.

"What is this?" she asked, opening the heavy cream folder.

"This is a legal document establishing a permanent family trust in your name," Chadworth explained. "It grants you full legal co-guardianship of Lorelai and Gemma, alongside a four-percent equity stake in Prescott Enterprises’ charitable foundation. You will have your own private suite in the main house, full financial independence, and complete authority over the girls' education and upbringing alongside me."

Rosamund stared at the documents, her hands trembling. "Chadworth... I can't accept this. This is millions of dollars. I didn't protect them for money."

"I know you didn't," Chadworth replied softly, reaching out to gently close her hand over the folder. "That is precisely why you deserve it. Sarah would never forgive me if I treated her sister like a hired employee for another second. You are their aunt. You are their guardian. This isn't a gift, Rosamund—it is your rightful place in this family."

Tears welling in her eyes, Rosamund looked at the signature line at the bottom of the page. She looked at Chadworth, seeing the sincere, humble father who had finally awakened from his long, dark sleep of grief.