Chapter 9 - The Foundation
Six months later, summer had arrived at the Vance Estate.
The snow and winter rain were long gone, replaced by endless blue skies, warm breezes, and blooming red roses across the grand lawns.
The estate had undergone a total cultural revolution. Under Sarah’s guidance, the former staff quarters were completely converted into modern, comfortable apartments for resident workers. The "Vance Family Domestic Foundation" was formally established, providing free healthcare, education grants, and fair living wages for domestic workers across the entire tri-state area.
On a warm Saturday afternoon, a grand garden party was taking place on the south lawn.
Dozens of children—the sons and daughters of estate workers—were running across the soft green grass, playing tag and laughing under the sun.
Sitting at a long wooden table under the shade of a massive oak tree was Luca Vance. He was wearing a simple white linen shirt with rolled-up sleeves, entirely unconcerned about dirt or stains.
Sitting on his lap was Nora, now four years old, wearing a bright yellow sun hat, happily showing him a new collection of sea shells she had found in the garden.
"Look at this one, Mr. Luca!" Nora cheered, holding up a spiral shell. "It’s shiny like your watch!"
"It’s much prettier than my watch, Nora," I laughed, gently tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "It’s extraordinary."
"Are you going to keep it on your big desk?" she asked eagerly.
"Right next to your painting," I promised.
Sarah walked over from the food tables, carrying a pitcher of fresh lemonade. She wore a yellow summer dress that matched Nora's, her dark hair blowing gently in the warm breeze. She looked healthy, radiant, and deeply happy.
She set the pitcher down and sat on the bench beside us, resting her head affectionately against my shoulder.
I reached out, placing my hand over hers, intertwining our fingers.
May you like
"Look at them," Sarah murmured softly, watching the children playing on the lawn. "Six months ago, they were terrified to even walk down the main corridors. Now... they own the place."
"As they should," I said gently, kissing the top of Sarah’s head. "A house without laughter isn't a home, Sarah. It’s just a tomb."
