103 Thirty-eight weeks pregnant and already in labor, I called my husband begging him to come to the hospital, but laughter from his mother’s birthday dinner filled the phone before he snapped, “Handle it yourself, Phoebe. Stop being so dramatic.” Three days later, he finally walked through my hospital-room door, and the moment he saw the billionaire holding our newborn son, every trace of color disappeared from his face.

One year later.

The autumn sun streamed through the massive floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the newly renovated headquarters of Vance & Sterling Forensic Advisory on Michigan Avenue in downtown Chicago.

Following the trial, I decided not to return to my old auditing job. With my father's guidance and my own professional drive, I founded my own specialized forensic auditing firm, dedicated entirely to helping women, non-profits, and vulnerable family trusts protect their assets from financial predators and corporate fraud.

In just twelve months, Vance & Sterling had grown into one of the most respected private investigative firms in the Midwest, employing twenty senior auditors and legal specialists.

I sat behind my executive mahogany desk, wearing a sharp ivory suit, reviewing a new client case file.

On the corner of my desk sat a gold-framed photograph taken three months ago on Leo’s first birthday. It showed my bright, dark-eyed boy laughing as he smashed a small chocolate cake, flanked by his doting grandfather, Gideon Sterling, and Mrs. Gable.

A soft knock sounded at my office door.

My senior associate, Clara, stepped inside, carrying a fresh cup of green tea. "Phoebe, the board meeting for the Sterling Maternal Health Foundation starts in ten minutes. And your father just arrived with Leo."

I smiled, standing up from my chair. "Bring them in, Clara."

The double oak doors opened, and my father walked into the office, holding one-year-old Leo in his arms. Leo was walking now—a sturdy, energetic toddler with my dark curly hair and my father's sharp, curious blue eyes.

"Mommy!" Leo babble-shouted, waving his little arms wildly the moment he saw me.

"Hey, my little man!" I laughed, stepping around the desk to take him from Dad's arms, kissing his soft, rosy cheek as he wrapped his tiny arms around my neck.

"He insisted on holding the steering wheel the entire drive from Lake Forest," Dad chuckled, sitting down on the leather sofa. "He’s going to be driving my tractors before he turns five."

"Don't give him any ideas, Dad," I smiled, sitting beside him, letting Leo play with a wooden toy train on the coffee table.

Dad looked at me, his eyes filled with a quiet, profound joy. "You built something amazing here, Phoebe. Not just this firm, but this life."

"I had a good mentor," I said gently, resting my hand on his arm. "You taught me that wealth isn't about the money in your bank account, Dad. It's about having the strength to protect the people you love."

"Speaking of protection," Dad said, pulling a folded newspaper from his jacket pocket. "Did Harrison send you the update from Oxford?"

"No," I replied, raising an eyebrow. "What update?"

"Rowan’s application for early parole was denied yesterday," Dad said calmly. "The board cited his lack of remorse and his continued attempts to file frivolous appeals against the custody agreement. He’ll be serving the full seven years."