he wealthy man found the pregnant maid trembling on the floor. His fiancée turned pale.

The following spring arrived with an explosion of vibrant green grass, blooming tulips, and the sweet, melodic songs of robins nesting in the ancient maple trees surrounding the estate.

Arthur Sterling was now four months old—a chubby, smiling infant who spent his afternoons being pushed across the estate lawns in a vintage mahogany pram by his glowing mother, while Julian worked from his executive home office with the French doors flung wide open to let the spring breeze sweep through the halls.

The scandal with the Vance family had long since faded from the tabloid columns, replaced by new corporate mergers and fleeting society gossip. The world had accepted the new reality: Julian Sterling had cast out the pretenders and claimed his true family with the unyielding resolve of a king.

On a warm Friday afternoon in May, Julian walked out onto the stone terrace holding a cup of black coffee, watching Elena and little Arthur sitting on a plaid picnic blanket spread across the clover lawn.

Arthur was attempting to clap his chubby hands together, squealing with delight as a golden retriever puppy bounded around the blanket in happy circles.

Julian walked down the terrace steps, crossed the grass, and sat down cross-legged beside them on the blanket, pulling Elena and his son into his arms.

“You know,” Julian murmured, kissing the top of Arthur’s head before looking at Elena, “I was thinking about expanding the estate gardens this summer. Building a proper hedge maze near the east fountain.”