The wind on the tarmac of the private airstrip was brisk. The sleek Gulfstream jet waited, its engines humming a low, steady note.
Victoria stood with Isabella near the boarding stairs. They hugged tightly–the “Croft Women” who had saved the men from themselves.
“Take care of him,” Victoria whispered. “He’s stubborn.”
“I know,” Isabella smiled, her hand on her bump. “But he’s learning.”
William and Malcolm stood a few feet away. There were no grand speeches. They simply looked at each other, the “War of the Brothers” finally extinguished by the shared blood now running through Malcolm’s veins.
“Don’t ruin the stock price,” Malcolm deadpanned.
“Don’t lose my kidney,” William retorted.
They embraced–brief, firm, and final. Malcolm turned, took Isabella’s hand, and walked up the stairs. As the jet taxied down the runway and lifted into the grey sky, William put his arm around Victoria’s waist, watching the “Usurper” leave to become a father.