Chapter 8 - The Golden CageBack at the estate, the evening sun cast a brilliant, fiery orange glow across the snow-covered lawns.

Hannah was resting comfortably in our bedroom, propped up against a mountain of plush pillows, sipping a warm cup of broth. I sat beside her on the edge of the mattress, reading aloud updates from Mason regarding the total dismantling of my mother's financial network.
"The bank audit is complete," I told her, setting the tablet on the bedside table. "Every single fraudulent asset has been frozen. By Friday, the court will formally grant us full, unencumbered control of the entire estate and all associated holdings."
Hannah looked up at me, a soft, profound relief washing over her delicate features. "I still can't believe it's over. For two years, I felt like a prisoner in this house, constantly looking over my shoulder, wondering when the next blow would land."
I reached out, gently cupping her cheek with my palm, tracing the fading bruise along her jawline with feather-light touch.
"You're never going to feel that way again," I promised, my voice thick with emotion. "You, and our child... you are my entire world now. No one will ever hurt you again."
Hannah’s eyes widened slightly, a sudden breath catching in her throat. She placed her hand gently over mine. "You... you know?"
"Dr. Vance told me at the hospital," I smiled gently. "We're going to be parents, Hannah."
Tears welled in her eyes, but this time, they weren't tears of fear or sorrow. They were tears of pure, unadulterated joy. She leaned forward, burying her face in the crook of my neck, her arms wrapping tightly around my shoulders.
"I love you, Lucas," she whispered against my skin.
"I love you too, Hannah. More than life itself."
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Downstairs, the grand grandfather clock chimed seven times, its deep, resonant bell echoing through the quiet halls. For the first time in two years, the house didn't feel like a monument to greed or tyranny.
It finally felt like home.