Chapter 8 – THE SEAT AT THE TABLE

I turned around.

Julian stood up, holding Theo’s hand. He walked toward me, his dark eyes filled with an emotion I hadn’t seen in him since he was a little boy.

“Where are you going?” he asked softly.

“To pack, Mr. Mercer,” I said, my voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill. “The house is safe now. You have your family back.”

Julian shook his head slowly.

“Alma, you’ve taken care of me since I was eight years old. You held my hand at my mother’s funeral. You held my hand at my wife’s funeral. You protected my son when I was too blind to see the danger right in front of me.”

He took a step closer, leaving no space between the employer and the employee.

“You aren’t going anywhere,” Julian said.

“Julian, I am the nanny. It isn’t proper—”

“You are a Mercer,” he interrupted, his voice thick with emotion. “You always have been.”

He looked at Omar, who was quietly standing near the hallway.

“Omar,” Julian said. “Bring the chair back.”

Omar smiled, a genuine, warm smile. He walked over to the corner of the room, picked up the heavy dining chair that Celeste had ordered removed, and placed it right back where it belonged.

Right next to Theo.

“Sit, Alma,” Julian commanded gently.

I looked at the chair. Then I looked at Theo.

The little boy tugged on my hand. “Please, Miss Alma. Don’t leave me.”

I couldn’t fight it anymore. The tears spilled over.

I sat down in the chair.

Julian sat at the head of the table. Victor pulled up a chair on the other side.

We were a broken group of people, sitting in a room that had just seen the darkest parts of humanity exposed. But as Theo placed his little wooden train on the table, right between my plate and his father’s, the room didn’t feel dark anymore.

It felt like home.

“Tomorrow,” Julian said, looking at me, “we are drawing up new papers. You aren’t staff anymore, Alma. You are Theo’s legal co-guardian. If anything ever happens to me, nobody will ever be able to take him from you.”

I covered my mouth, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the gift. “Julian, I don’t need papers to love him.”

“I know,” Julian smiled. “But I need them. So I can sleep at night.”

Victor raised a crystal glass, which was miraculously still full of water.

“To Rachel,” Victor said softly.

Julian raised his glass. “To Rachel.”

Theo picked up his juice cup. “To Mommy.”

I raised my glass, looking around the table at the family we had fought so hard to save.

“To family,” I said.

And for the first time in eighteen months, Theo Mercer laughed.

It was a small, quiet sound, but it echoed through the grand dining room, chasing away the shadows of the red coat, the forged signatures, and the lies.

The nightmare was over. The villains were locked away, stripped of their power and their dignity. Julian had his son, Victor had his peace, and Theo finally had a home where he was safe, loved, and heard.

We sat there for a long time, just the four of us, letting the quiet warmth of the house settle around us.

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