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"You're certain?" James asked. "Given everything that's happened, all the complications..."
"Especially because of everything that's happened," I corrected. "You've both stood by us when it would have been easier to walk away. You've shown us what loyalty and friendship truly mean."
"Besides," Lili added with a grin, "somebody's going to need to help keep these babies from growing up too stuffy and British."
"Hey!" Daphne protested, then paused. "Actually, that's probably fair."
"So?" I asked. "Will you do it?"
"Yes," James said immediately, then looked at Daphne. "We'd be honored."
"More than honored," Daphne agreed, rising to throw her arms around both of us. "This is going to be wonderful. Complicated and chaotic and probably occasionally terrifying, but wonderful."
As the four of us held each other in the fading light, I felt the last pieces of my old life finally settling into place. Not the life I'd planned, with its rigid structures and careful boundaries, but something infinitely better. Something real.
The knock on the drawing room door came precisely at seven o'clock, and I knew without looking that Mother had arrived.Her timing, as always, was impeccable—late enough to make a statement, early enough to avoid appearing rude.
It was a delicate balance she'd perfected over decades of social maneuvering.
"Come in," I called, my arm tightening slightly around Lili's shoulders.
Mother entered with her usual regal bearing, her silver hair perfectly coiffed and her expression carefully neutral. She paused just inside the doorway, taking in the scene—Daphne and James on one side, Lili and me on the other, the general air of celebration and champagne.
"I see congratulations are in order," she said, her voice carrying that particular quality of measured politeness that had served her well in countless social situations.
"Multiple congratulations, actually," Daphne said, her tone carefully bright. "The business merger, the engagement, the babies—"
"Babies?" Mother's composure slipped just slightly. "Plural?"
"Twins," I confirmed, watching her face carefully. "Due in March."
For just a moment, something flickered across her features—surprise, perhaps, or something that might have been joy. Then the mask slipped back into place.
"How... unexpected," she said.
"Rather," I agreed, my voice cool. "Though not unwelcome."
An uncomfortable silence settled over the room.
James shifted slightly, while Daphne's hand found his in a gesture of support. Lili, to her credit, remained perfectly still beside me, though I could feel the tension in her shoulders.
"Mother," I said finally, my voice taking on the sort of formal precision I employed in court. "I believe you have something to say to Lili."
Her chin lifted slightly, a gesture I recognized from childhood. "I'm not certain what you mean."
"I think you are," I replied, my tone remaining conversational despite the steel beneath it. "Our discussion two weeks ago was quite thorough on this point."
The discussion in question had been illuminating. Armed with evidence of her manipulation—phone records, email correspondence, documented meetings with Malcolm—I had presented my case with the sort of methodical precision that had made my reputation.
The choice I'd offered her had been simple: make amends, or face the consequences. Both legal and familial.
Mother's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Very well."
She stood silent for a long moment, her perfectly manicured hands clasped so tightly her knuckles had gone white.
I could see the war playing out across her features—decades of rigid control battling against something rawer and more human.
She moved further into the room, her posture still rigid but something in her expression softening. When she reached Lili, she stopped, her hands clasped before her like a supplicant.