Chapter 17 - The Architect’s Table
The dining room of Khloe’s Bucks County farmhouse glowed with the warm amber light of a wrought-iron chandelier.
The table was set with fine porcelain, silver cutlery, and a steaming ceramic dish of homemade lasagna that filled the room with the rich aroma of garlic, basil, and slow-simmered tomatoes.
Khloe poured a glass of sparkling water for Harrison as he settled into the chair across from her, loosening his silk tie just an inch.
"The park dedication made the front page of the Philadelphia Inquirer this morning," Harrison noted, unfolding his linen napkin and laying it across his lap.
"I saw," Khloe said, sitting down and dishing a generous portion onto his plate. "They called it 'a masterclass in urban renewal.' Marcus even sent an email joking that we should start a municipal land-grab division."
Harrison smirked, taking a bite of the lasagna. "Marcus talks too much, but his instincts are sound. The foundation’s endowment is fully secured for the next fifty years. Nobody will ever be able to strip this family of its security again."
Khloe paused, her fork hovering above her plate as she looked across the table at her brother. For years, she had measured her worth by the approval of a man who saw her as an obligation. Now, sitting in a home she owned, surrounded by a legacy she had built with her own hands and her brother's unwavering protection, the ghost of her past marriage felt like a lifetime ago.
"Harry," she said softly.
"Mmm?"
"What do we build next?"
May you like
Harrison stopped chewing. He looked up, his sharp, analytical eyes locking onto hers. But instead of the cold calculation of the courtroom, there was a profound, quiet warmth in his gaze.
"Whatever you want, Khloe," Harrison said, raising his water glass in a silent toast. "The blueprints are entirely yours."
