The Croft Estate had never been this quiet. With the lawyers dismissed, Lady Beatrice exiled to the city, and Sophie gone to the clinic, the “Impossible House” felt less like a home and more like a museum of regrets.
William sat on the stone bench in the garden, watching Leo push his wooden truck through the grass. This was the victory he had fought for. He had defeated the custody suit. He had protected Victoria from the world. He had kept his son.
But the victory was hollow. He looked up at the Main House, where the curtains in the master bedroom were drawn–a testament to the wife who had packed her bags and left him to his ghosts. He looked at the Guest House, where Marcus Thorne was quietly packing his life away, preparing to surrender the post of “Protector”.
William realized he was the King of a silent kingdom, sitting in the wreckage of his own heart, waiting for a woman who didn’t know him to wake up.