The silence in the kitchen wasn't peaceful; it was heavy and suffocating, thick with the scent of roasting turkey and my mother’s expensive pine-scented candles, which she had lit without asking.

Later that afternoon, after the crowds had thinned and the last of the families had settled into their new apartments within the sanctuary, I sat alone on a wooden bench in the courtyard, watching the autumn leaves drift down from the surrounding oaks.

Footsteps crunched softly on the gravel pathway behind me.

"Working overtime, Major?" a familiar, teasing voice asked.

I turned my head with a smile. It was Gregory’s former defense attorney—or rather, a federal prosecutor who had handled the asset seizure during Gregory's corporate fraud trial. Her name was Amanda Cole, a sharp, brilliant litigator who had frequently consulted with Elizabeth during the fallout.

"Just making sure the final occupancy permits are filed," I replied, patting the empty space on the bench next to me. "What brings you out here, Amanda?"

Amanda sat down, pulling a manila envelope from her designer tote bag and handing it over. "Thought you might want to see this before it hits the public record."

I opened the flap and pulled out a single legal document.

It was the final bankruptcy liquidation notice for Gregory and Priscilla’s assets. Their luxury SUV had been repossessed, their credit scores had cratered to absolute zero, and Gregory was currently facing federal sentencing for mail fraud and embezzlement.

"They tried to appeal," Amanda said quietly. "Claimed they were victims of a hostile corporate takeover. The judge threw out the motion in less than five minutes."

I slid the paper back into the envelope, feeling neither joy nor malice—only the quiet, unshakeable justice of a balanced ledger.