By morning, Ashcroft lawyers had already begun calling the incident an unfortunate accident.

Nathaniel expected it.

What he didn't expect was the security footage.

The estate's staircase camera had recorded everything.

Victoria's movement.

Clare turning away.

Victoria reaching toward her.

The contact.

The fall.

Nathaniel watched it once.

Then closed the laptop.

His attorney, Marcus Hale, waited.

“What do you want done?”

“Preserve every copy.”

“Your father wants this handled privately.”

Nathaniel gave him a cold look.

“Douglas doesn't represent me.”

“Understood.”

Nathaniel began making calls.

First, the police received the footage.

Then the independent directors of Ashcroft Holdings received documentation showing how Douglas had repeatedly used corporate resources to support private Bowmont negotiations.

Then Nathaniel called Harrison Bowmont.

Harrison answered immediately.

“We need to control this.”

“No.”

“Victoria made a mistake.”

“Clare could have lost our child.”

“My daughter wasn't thinking.”

“Then she can explain that without my family's lawyers protecting her.”

“Nathaniel, consider what you're destroying.”

Nathaniel looked through the hospital-room glass at Clare.

“For the first time in my life, I am.”

He ended the call.

Douglas arrived an hour later.

“You've lost perspective.”

Nathaniel stepped into the corridor.

“My perspective has never been clearer.”

“You released private family security footage.”

“I gave evidence to investigators.”

“You're destroying your inheritance.”

Nathaniel almost laughed.

“You still think that's leverage.”

Douglas stared at him.

“You'll lose control of Ashcroft Holdings.”

“Then I'll lose it.”

“Everything I've built—”

“Was supposed to become my prison.”

Douglas went silent.

Nathaniel continued.

“I resigned from the family trust this morning.”

His father's face changed.

“You did what?”

“I've also requested an independent review of every Bowmont transaction involving company resources.”

“You cannot do this.”

“I already did.”

Eleanor appeared at the end of the corridor.

“Nathaniel.”

He looked at his mother.

For once, Eleanor seemed older than elegant.

“I should have stopped it,” she said quietly.

Nathaniel said nothing.

“I saw Victoria follow Clare.”

“You did.”

“I thought she was going to argue with her.”

“And when Clare fell?”

Eleanor's eyes filled.

“I froze.”

Nathaniel looked away.

“I’m sorry.”

He finally answered.

“Tell Clare.”

Eleanor nodded.

Then she walked into Clare's room alone.

Twenty minutes later, she came out crying.

Nathaniel entered.

“What did she say?”

Clare looked at him.

“That she's sorry.”

“And?”

“I believe she is.”

Nathaniel frowned.

“You forgive people too easily.”

“No.”

Clare touched his hand.

“I just don't want our child born into a war.”

Nathaniel sat beside her.

“So what do you want?”

“You.”

He looked at her.

“Not Ashcroft Holdings. Not revenge. Not some dynasty.”

She placed his hand gently against her stomach.

“This.”

Nathaniel felt a tiny movement beneath his palm.

His expression broke.

Clare smiled.

“Did you feel that?”

Again.

A tiny kick.

Nathaniel laughed softly.

“Yes.”

“That's your inheritance.”

For once, Nathaniel Ashcroft had no argument.

---