They clung to me, their small hands gripping my sweater.

Lily was crying quietly, her face pressed into my shoulder.

“We are leaving,” I told them.

“Right now.”

I helped them up, keeping my body between them and the doorway.

As we stepped out of the dark room, Margaret was still standing by the stairs.

Her face was pale with rage.

“If you walk out that door with them, Emily, you will have nothing,” Margaret spat.

“You have no money, no home, and no legal right to my son’s estate.”

Richard walked over to us, his hand resting gently on Grace’s shoulder.

“She has me,” Richard said.

Margaret let out a sharp, bitter laugh.

“You think you can protect her from the Whitmore name, Richard?”

“Thomas Vale will have the custody papers signed by morning,” she added.

Richard ignored her.

He looked down at me, his dark eyes steady and calm.

“Can you walk?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, holding Lily tight against my chest while Olivia and Grace held my hands.

“Follow me,” Richard said.

He guided us up the steep wooden stairs and out of the basement.