I stared at the numbers on the page, my breath catching in my throat.

“Julian, I can’t accept this,” I whispered.

“It’s not for you to accept,” he said gently. “It’s for her. It’s what she deserves after what she’s been dragged through.”

He turned to the next page, which showed a corporate charter with a new name: *Mercer-Dawson Maritime*.

“And this,” Julian said, looking directly into my eyes, “is a partnership.”

“A partnership?” I repeated, my mind struggling to process the words.

“I need someone I can trust to oversee the transition of the shipping offices,” he said. “Someone who knows the value of honest work, and who isn’t afraid to stand up to people like Vanessa.”

“I’m just a housekeeper, Julian,” I said, looking down at my hands.

“You were a housekeeper,” he corrected me softly. “Now, you are the person who saved this family from destroying itself.”

Before I could answer, his phone, lying on the table between us, began to vibrate.

The screen lit up with an unknown number from a private exchange in Washington, D.C.