Liam It takes months of work before Whitmore mansion is restored to its former glory. All
the gaudy junk Deena put in had to be gotten rid of, and Constance’s Bösendorfer Imperial
needed to be brought out and restored. I never asked Olivia about the house because she
was already exhausted by the pregnancy and delivery. But I wanted to give her back the
childhood home she lost when Hugh let Deena and Brielle take it over. “You’re so whipped,”
London says with a grin. “Thank you for your help.” She and her mother have been
instrumental in providing a lot of details. Mrs. Moore helped, too, especially with restoring
the more private parts of the home outsiders couldn’t access. “At this rate, I’m going to owe
your family for ten generations or something.” She laughs. “I’m just glad Olivia has you in
her corner. She’ll love you even more after this.” “That’s the idea.” I thought a ring or a
pendant would suffice when she gave birth. But holding the tiny girl with fuzzy black hair
on her crown, I knew it wouldn’t be enough. Olivia deserves the world. And what better
time to give her the world than her birthday? I drive to her office after work and brighten
when I spot her coming out of the office with our baby in her arms. It’s “Bring Your Kid to
Work Day,” and she decided to take Connie. “Happy birthday.” I kiss her forehead, then
buss the baby. Connie giggles that toothless giggle and waves her arms. She’s in a purple
onesie that says DADDY’S PRINCESS across her chest. “Look at you, always so decisive and
clever like Mommy,” I coo. Olivia laughs. “You’re so biased.”
“Hey, now. I never say anything untruthful. Besides, our daughter is perfect like Mommy.”
Connie Alexandra Kingswood-Whitmore. That’s the name Olivia wanted to give our child,
and I loved it. “Let’s go. I have this amazing place where we can celebrate,” I say, taking
the baby from Olivia and leading her to the Cullinan. I had to get something bigger than my
Spectre since we needed more space. Our black terrier puppy Momo wags his tail at the
sight of his two favorite people in the world. He’s a rescue. Olivia said she wanted one, and
I agreed. Momo isn’t a substitute for Pochi—nothing ever will be—but it’s a sign she’s
healing and learning to trust that the things she loves will stay. Since Olivia took Connie to
work, I took Momo to my office. Mike and Emmie ragged me for bringing a dog rather than
Connie. But my wife always gets priority. “Where are you taking me? Most places you like
don’t allow babies,” she says. “This one does. It’ll welcome Connie.” I grin, then drive.
Olivia sits next to the baby in the back, fussing over the little one. She adores our daughter,
who can’t seem to tear her eyes from her mom. London often comes over to coo and exclaim
as well. Our home is already half full with all the toys and gifts Connie has received from
her godmother, aunts and uncles and grandparents and great-grandparents, although I’m
not sure what she’s supposed to do with the pair of super tiny toe shoes from Czarina. I let
Connie and Momo distract Olivia as I drive toward the Whitmore mansion and maneuver
along the now-familiar streets. Finally, Olivia looks up and gasps. “What are we doing
here?” “I want to show you something.” I drive past the stately gates, polished to their
former sheen. The fountain that stayed stagnant for years shoots clear water into the air,
cutting through the copper-and-pink sunset sky. I park the car and open the door. Olivia
st eps out, holding the baby and staring at the mansion. Momo jumps out to join us. “Why
are we here?” she asks shakily. I stand behind her, hands on her shoulders to convey
comfort and my support. “I want you to have a chance to reclaim your childhood—what
you’ve lost.” She trembles slightly as she gazes at the house.
“Or we can go back home. Either way.” I ke ep my voice gentle. She shakes her head, then
takes a small st ep forward. Placing a hand at the small of her back, I escort her inside. “This
is your legacy, Olivia. Hugh and his trashy family never took it from you. It’s been here all
along, just waiting for your return.” Olivia st eps into the foyer, her eyes wide with shock.
“This is exactly how I remembered it. The scent of roses and beeswax. It’s how it always
was.” I smile. Her reaction is all I could have hoped for. A hint of grief ripples over her face.
“Those stairs. That’s where Mom fell. But... That’s also where she used to call out my name
and come down to cradle my face and say, ‘Welcome home, baby.’” I squeeze her shoulder.
“I feel like she’d say, ‘Welcome home, babies.’” Her eyes shine with unshed tears, and
something like acc eptance and peace settles over her. Her eyes go to the huge window
facing the garden, blooming with a profusion of roses. Her face crumples a little, even as a
smile breaks through. “This is exactly how it was. Mom’s roses.” I wrap an arm around her.
“And it’s yours again. Yours and Connie’s.” “Yours, too.” She rests her head on my chest.
“Thank you. This is perfect.” “You’re welcome. Let’s go in and have our celebratory dinner.
I’m sure Frederich has outdone himself.” Smiling, we walk further inside, with Momo
following on our heels, tail wagging.