The Bastard’s Inheritance

By late afternoon, the Cambridge cottage was quiet again.

Richard had left in a blind panic, racing back downtown to try and salvage whatever pieces of the crumbling corporate skeleton were left. The storm outside had passed, leaving behind a clean, rain-washed sky that painted the evening clouds in shades of amber and violet.

Lily had fallen asleep on the living room sofa, curled up under a patchwork quilt, her crayons scattered safely on the coffee table.

Elena stood on the back porch, watching the last rays of sunlight stretch across the lawn.

Footsteps approached softly behind her. A warm wool blanket settled over her shoulders, and a pair of arms wrapped gently around her waist, pulling her back against a steady, familiar chest.

“You really burned it all down, didn’t you?” Elena murmured, leaning her head back against Julian’s shoulder.

“Every last brick,” Julian whispered into her hair. “Turns out a billion dollars isn't worth much if you don't have anyone to share coffee with on a rainy Tuesday morning.”

Elena turned around within his arms, looking up into his dark eyes. The shadows that had haunted him for twenty-four years seemed to have finally lifted, replaced by a quiet, steady peace.

“What happens now, Julian Sterling?” she asked with a faint, teasing smile. “No company. No board of directors. No trust fund.”

“Now?” Julian smiled, his arms tightening around her waist. “Now I get to learn how to be a father. And maybe, if I’m very lucky, I can convince a very stubborn woman to let me make up for twenty-four lost years.”

Elena reached up, her fingers tracing the small crease between his brows—the exact same crease Lily had when she was concentrating.

“You’ve got a lot of ground to cover, Mr. Sterling,” she whispered.