“I’m not here to buy forgiveness,” Harrison said. “I don’t deserve it. But Lily deserves better. Let me help. Not as a businessman. As your father.”
Isabella looked at her daughter—thin, exhausted, far too brave for her age. Then she looked at the man who once seemed untouchable, now crying on a dirty apartment floor.
“Fine,” she said finally. “But I have conditions.”
“Anything.”
“I was studying marketing before I left. I want to finish my degree. I want to work for what I have.”
“You will,” Harrison promised. “You’ll earn it, just like anyone else.”
“And one more thing,” she added firmly. “If I ever see you choose reputation over family again, we’re gone.”
“I swear,” he said, raising his shaking hand. “Family first. Always.”
Lily stepped forward shyly. “So… do I have a grandpa now?”
Through tears, Harrison opened his arms. She ran into them without hesitation. After a moment, Isabella joined the embrace.
There were no skyscrapers in that narrow hallway. No contracts. No flashing cameras. But for the first time in years, Harrison Whitmore felt rich.