THE GLASS HEIR

That evening, the heavy gates of the Sterling Estate closed against a swarm of reporters. Inside the sprawling Victorian manor on the outskirts of the city, the atmosphere was surprisingly quiet.

Julian sat on the veranda steps, watching Clara teach Ewan how to catch fireflies in a glass jar. The boy's laughter echoed across the manicured lawn—a sound the old house had not heard in over two decades.

"He hasn't smiled like that since his last therapy session," Arthur noted, stepping out onto the terrace with two porcelain cups of tea. He handed one to Julian and sat on the wooden bench beside him.

"He spent five years feeling like an invisible ghost," Julian replied, looking down at the dark brew. "Every time I left his bedside, I told myself it was for his protection. But it was my own fear."

"I taught you that fear," Arthur confessed, his voice heavy with regret. "When your mother passed, I thought the only way to shield you was to build a fortress of wealth and power. I drove Elena away because I thought her family lacked pedigree. I was blind, Julian."

Across the lawn, Ewan ran toward them, proudly holding up the jar. "Look, Dad! Three of them! Clara said if we make a wish and let them go, they fly up to the stars."

Julian knelt down to Ewan’s eye level, unscrewing the lid gently. "What did you wish for, buddy?"

"I wished we didn't have to live in the hospital anymore," Ewan said simply, opening his hands as the tiny golden lights lifted into the night sky.