“She fainted? She’ll live. Our flight with your sister leaves at six,” Dad said, and they went. I spent nine days in that ward alone. They strolled back demanding to sign me out. The head nurse blocked the door: “She’s not yours to discharge anymore. Ask the man who—”

Eleanor stayed for twenty minutes. We didn't talk about the past, and we didn't offer grand forgiveness. We simply talked about architecture, about the strength of reclaimed brick, and about how buildings, like people, require honest foundations to survive the worst storms.

When she left, she didn't ask for a place to stay, and I didn't offer one. She simply walked back out into the autumn afternoon, a solitary figure blending into the rhythm of the city.

"You handled that better than I would have," Reed admitted, leaning against my desk with a mug of coffee after she departed.

"She's paying for her mistakes, Reed," I said, looking out the window as she disappeared down the sidewalk. "Holding onto anger is like keeping a cracked pillar under stress. It doesn't hurt the pillar; it just destroys the rest of the building."

The months rolled on, bringing with them the crisp chill of winter and the bustling energy of a new year. Our firm grew rapidly, earning a reputation for integrity, precision, and innovative safety designs. Word of our work spread through municipal boards and urban planning committees, establishing Vance & Vance as a cornerstone of the city’s downtown revitalization.

Personally, my world expanded in ways I never could have imagined back when I was trapped in my parents' suffocating orbit. I joined a local hiking club—slow-paced weekend trails where my heart rate was monitored and my health was respected. I learned to cook meals that nourished me rather than rushed me. I laughed more in a single month than I had in thirty years of childhood.

And then, in the spring of our second year in business, someone unexpected walked through our front door.

It wasn't our parents. It wasn't Camille.

It was a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a flannel shirt and carrying a portfolio of architectural sketches under his arm. He had warm hazel eyes, a kind smile, and a gentle, grounding presence that immediately made the chaotic noise of the office fade into the background.

"Hi," he said, offering a slightly nervous grin. "I'm Marcus. I’m the lead structural consultant for the new botanical conservatory project across town. Municipal housing assigned me to coordinate with Vance & Vance."