Chapter 10 - The New Foundation
Two months later, the New Jersey waterfront at Brighton Terminal was a hive of industrial activity.
Cranes lifted shipping containers onto newly laid rail lines. Warehouses that had sat vacant for decades were buzzing with forklifts, logistics coordinators, and bustling freight teams. Rowan Harbor Group’s stock had hit an all-time high, cementing our family name not just as old money on the North Shore, but as the undisputed titans of East Coast commercial infrastructure.
Elise Mercer’s trial was scheduled for late autumn, her brilliant offshore tax evasion web dismantled piece by piece by the federal prosecutors she had tried to manipulate. The sapphire necklace she had worn like a crown was sitting in a federal evidence lockup in Manhattan, locked away permanently alongside the rest of the Sterling-Vane bankruptcy relics.
In our home in Sands Point, the walnut dining room table was set once again for our quarterly strategy dinner.
There were eight place settings.
All eight were accounted for.
Daniel Reeves was discussing freight tariffs with Maren Holt. Noah was laughing across the table with two new regional directors we had brought on to oversee the New Jersey expansion.
And at the head of the table sat Graham and me, side by side, equal partners in every sense of the word.
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As Diane served the first course, Graham reached under the table and found my hand, lacing his fingers securely through mine. I didn't look away from the financial reports spread out before me, but I squeezed his hand back, firm and reassuring.
The ghosts of Harbor Street were gone. The foundation was secure. And the future belonged entirely to us.
