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Weeks later, the mansion felt different — warmer, livelier, full of laughter. Richard spent his mornings feeding the twins, learning to braid Emma’s curls, and building towers of blocks with Ethan.
Maria was no longer “the nanny.” She was family.
Sometimes, as the sun set over the city skyline, Richard would pause in the doorway and watch Maria playing with the twins. Their laughter filled the air, warm and bright against the cool marble floors.
He would close his eyes and whisper, “Grace, I found her.”