Nathaniel navigated the drive home, and he told Cecilia about Elena and Wren. Beside him, Cecilia leaned forward, concern creasing her brow while the car hummed through the night.

"Dad''s words are too hurtful. No wonder Mom insists on getting a divorce," Cecilia said.

As a woman herself, she felt Elena''s humiliation like a bruise under her own skin.

Nathaniel reached over, threading his fingers through hers. "Dad will regret this one day," he said quietly, conviction flickering in his dark eyes.

Everyone in the Rainsworth family had witnessed Elena''s devotion. Wren had been too busy soaking in luxury to notice the cost paid by the woman beside him.

"Let''s hope so." Cecilia nodded. "If Dad realizes this sooner, it''ll be good for Mom, too. She won''t be giving everything for nothing."

Their conversation dwindled as the car rolled beneath iron gates and into the courtyard of the Smith residence, the manor crouching under a quilt of new snow.

The family climbed out, boots crunching across the frosted path that led toward the warm glow of the front doors.

Jonathan had been brought home as well, mainly to keep Queeniepany during the bleak winter evenings.

Inside, Charlotte sat with Queenie on the sun-room balcony, both women wrapped in knitted throws, marveling at flurries drifting past the ss.

Queenie looked far brighter tonight. When she spotted her family, her eyes lit up. "Ceci!"

Cecilia hurriedly walked toward her. "Mom, why are you up?"

Charlotte immediately replied, "Mdm. Queenie said she needed some fresh air and insisted on leaving the house."

Queenie caught Cecilia''s hand, her grip reassuringly firm.

"Don''t me Lottie. I wanted toe out myself. Lottie is just keeping mepany, chatting while we watch the snow."

Of course, Cecilia wouldn''t me Charlotte. She was grateful beyond words that Charlotte was here to keep her mompany.

"I know. I''m just worried you''ll get cold. Didn''t the doctor say you shouldn''t be in the wind?"

"It''s fine. There''s no wind outside," Queenie added.

Cecilia hovered beside the wheelchair, words tangled in her throat. She knew all too well that a sterile ward could stretch her mom''s life but never nt joy.

Cecilia lowered herself to eye level and, after a breath, murmured, "Then let me sit out here with you. We''ll watch the snow, just the two of us."

Queenie''s tired eyes brightened, as though a match had red in a dark room. "All right," she answered, the sybles almost augh.

Sensing the moment was no longer hers, Charlotte slipped away without a sound, leaving mother and daughter alone beneath the falling kes.

Cecilia sank onto the bench beside

the wheelchair, pressing her shoulder to its metal frame and threading her fingers through

Queenie''s. It hadn''t even been long

since the older woman fell sick, but the hand she sped wa shockingly thin, parchment skin

stretched over bone, stippled with IV punctures and bruises that refused

to fade.

s

Queenie''s whisper drifted up, fragile as the snow. "Ceci... I want to go home."

The request stunned her. Cecilia lifted her head, not knowing what to say.

Atst she managed, "We''ll go back to Drocver-home."

Queenie understood that she had

hidden her illness too well. If she passed away without warning, her aging parents would break beyond repair.  s

Cecilia hesitated, then gave a fierce nod. "Okay."

Seeing her daughter''s resolve, Queenie looked down at the young woman''s face with quiet pride.

Her voice softened. "The Escobar family hasn''t given you trouble, have they?" Cecilia shook her head. "They can''t touch me now."

After all, she was Queenie''s daughter and the CEO of Jamieson Group; the Escobars could do nothing to her.

Queenie exhaled. "Good-now I can rest easy." Her palm patted Cecilia''s shoulder once, then her gaze drifted back to the white-spun sky.

Weariness settled over her like fresh snow. Her eyelids fluttered, then slid closed.

Cecilia waved a caregiver over. Together they guided the wheelchair through the drifting hush and back inside.

Life, it seemed, was an endless ledger of gain and loss-entries inked whether one consented or not.

That night Queenie had a happy dream. The family gathered,ughter ringing herte husband, smining beside her in perfect, impossible light.  s

Cecilia kept vigil at the bedside, unwilling to step even a pace away.

Just before dawn, she dozed. When her eyes snapped open again, the silence

told her everything-Queenie had slipped away.

"Mom!" she cried out.

Only stillness answered; the body on the mattressy utterly at peace.