Chapter 12 - The Empty Mansion
On Sunday afternoon, we brought my mother home.
The Bennett Mansion felt completely transformed. The suffocating weight of suspicion and deceit had vanished with Vanessa’s arrest. Before noon, I had hired a charity moving crew to pack up every designer dress, shoe, and bottle of perfume Vanessa had left in the closets and donate the entire haul to women's shelters across the five boroughs. Whatever darkness she had brought into those halls was scrubbed out by the afternoon sun pouring through every open window.
While Dr. Harrison and two full-time, vetted nurses settled my mother into a sunlit first-floor conservatory suite so she wouldn't have to deal with stairs during her physical therapy, I walked Emily and Mia up the grand mahogany staircase to the second floor.
Emily stopped on the landing when I turned left toward the family wing instead of right toward the back stairs.
"Logan, our remaining things from before are downstairs," she said, holding Mia’s hand as the toddler trailed her stuffed rabbit along the banister.
"Ryan already moved them," I said, stopping outside a pair of wide, white-paneled doors down the hall from my own master suite and pushing them open.
Inside was the South Garden Suite—two adjoining rooms flooded with golden afternoon light, overlooking the rose gardens and the greenhouse in the backyard. One room had been converted overnight by my design team into a dream bedroom for a little girl, complete with a canopy bed draped in fairy lights, a miniature wooden kitchen set, and shelves overflowing with books and art supplies. The main suite featured a king-sized bed with cream cashmere linens, a fireplace, and a private balcony.
Mia gasped, dropping her rabbit and running straight toward the miniature kitchen set with a shriek of pure delight. "Mommy! Look! The tiny stove has buttons that click!"
Emily stood frozen on the threshold, her hand rising to press against her collarbone as she took in the room. She turned slowly to look at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Logan... I can't accept this. Now that Mrs. Bennett has real nurses, you don't even need a full-time housekeeper, let alone someone living in the family wing like a guest."
I stepped into the room and gently closed the hallway door halfway to give us privacy while Mia played in the adjoining nursery.
"You're right," I said, walking up to her until the toes of my shoes brushed hers. "I fired you this morning."
Her breath hitched, a flash of panic crossing her face before she saw the gentle curve of my mouth. "You... what?"
"You're officially unemployed as my housekeeper, Emily," I murmured, reaching down to take both of her hands in mine. "And as for my mother? She told me this morning that if I don't enroll you in that interior design and nonprofit management degree at Columbia University that you mentioned wanting to take before your husband got sick, she's going to have Ryan throw me out of the house."
A choked laugh escaped Emily’s throat as a tear spilled down her cheek. "Your mother remembered I told her about that?"
"She remembers everything about you," I said softly, stepping closer and lifting my hands to frame her face, my thumbs wiping away her tears. "And so do I. Stay here, Emily. Not as an employee. Not out of obligation. Stay here because for the first time in my life, when I walked up these stairs today, this massive tomb of a house finally felt like a home. Give me a chance to show you what life looks like when someone takes care of you for a change."
She looked into my eyes for a long, breathless moment, searching for any trace of pity or condescension, and finding only raw, honest devotion.
Slowly, she rose up on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around my neck, and pressed her lips softly against mine.
It wasn't a practiced, performative kiss like the ones I had endured for the last year. It was warm, trembling, and devastatingly sweet, tasting slightly of tears and vanilla. A jolt of pure electricity shot straight down my spine. I groaned softly against her mouth, wrapping my arms around her waist and lifting her slightly off the carpet as I deepened the kiss, pouring every ounce of pent-up emotion from the last four days into the way I held her.
When we finally parted, both of us breathing hard with our foreheads resting together, a tiny voice piped up from the nursery doorway.
"Mommy, I cooked you a plastic hot dog! Why is Uncle Logan holding you up?"
Emily buried her burning face in the crook of my neck, laughing breathlessly as I set her gently back on her feet and winked at Mia.
May you like
"Because your mommy is the lightest thing in the world, kiddo," I said, walking over to accept the plastic hot dog with a solemn bow. "And this is Michelin-star work."
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