Lucy's laughter echoed off the walls of the Anderson Mansion like a haunting lullaby. She twirled around in her silk robe, baby Andrew cradled in her arms as if he were her crown jewel.
"They're all mourning a building!" she laughed breathlessly, kissing Andrew's chubby cheek. "And you, my darling… are safe. You're mine. No one will take you from me."
She paced the marble floors like a queen inspecting her castle, certain the world was finally tilting in her favor.
"No one can prove anything now," she whispered, rocking the baby gently. "The warehouse is gone. Philip's probably dead. And that poor girl? She'll believe her baby died in that explosion. The pain will eat her alive, and Ethan will only have me to lean on."
Her smile widened like a crack in the porcelain. "This… is perfect."
—
Vera's eyes welled up as she turned to her mother. "I need to tell you everything, Mom."
And she did.
