They captured Harrison and Beatrice being placed into the back of separate police cruisers.

Sloane Whitaker was standing near the fountain, wrapped in a trench coat, watching the scene.

She looked small and frightened without the Celestia gown.

When she saw me, she turned her face away and walked toward a waiting taxi.

I walked over to the library table where the legal documents for the Ashford Foundation were kept.

Grace laid out the dissolution papers.

I took the pen from her hand.

With a few quick strokes, I signed my name at the bottom of each page.

The Ashford Foundation was officially dissolved.

The Bennett Trust was once again sole owner of Aster Hall and all its surrounding lands.

Every dollar that had been diverted to the Ashford accounts would be returned by court order.

I walked out onto the stone steps, looking at the grand lawn of my childhood.

The air was cold, but the sky was beginning to clear.

Matteo walked up the steps, carrying a garment bag containing the Celestia gown.

“It is safe,” he said, offering a small, tired smile.

“The truth is out, Vivian.”

“Yes,” I said, looking at the historic estate.

“It is finally ours again.”

The police cruisers drove down the gravel driveway, their sirens faint in the distance.

I stood on the steps of Aster Hall, feeling the solid stone beneath my feet.

The Ashford empire had fallen, and my mother’s home was finally quiet.