PART 3
By noon, the mansion had turned into a command center.
Lawyers shouted in the grand dining room. Matthew’s most loyal executives flew in by helicopter. Coffee and takeout boxes littered the marble tables. And in the middle of it all was Lucy — still in her maid uniform — carrying trays, refilling water, and occasionally telling stressed-out millionaires to “breathe through your nose like you’re not about to have a heart attack.”
Matthew watched her from across the room, sleeves rolled up, hair still messy from sleep. Every time their eyes met, something electric passed between them.
The emergency hearing was brutal.
Arthur presented evidence: medical reports, stock dips during Matthew’s worst insomnia periods, even old photos of him collapsing from exhaustion at galas. Vanessa played the concerned ex, tears perfectly timed.
Then Matthew stood.
“I haven’t slept in five years because I was fighting you,” he said calmly. “But last night, I slept. Because someone reminded me what it feels like to be human again. The company isn’t just numbers and power. It’s supposed to mean something. And right now, the only person in this room who understands that is currently serving you all
