The mansion that had spent years filled with nothing but silence slowly filled, instead, with music, and laughter, and the sound of children running through the long marble hallways.

Daniel had almost married a woman who had viewed his family as nothing more than a fortune waiting to be conquered.

And the woman he had barely noticed, in three years of her working quietly beneath his roof, had risked her own life to save it.

He understood, at last, the thing his father — for all his empire — had never learned, and had never taught him.

A home is not valuable because it has thirty-eight rooms.