No corporate attorneys.

No lingering ghosts of the Vance name.

There was only the gentle rustle of the wind against the high windows, and the quiet, sweet breathing of our son.

That evening, with Noah asleep in his new crib, Julian and I stood together on the balcony, looking out over the glowing grid of the city, and he wrapped his arms around me from behind and rested his chin on my shoulder.

“The takeover cleared the regulatory board an hour ago,” he said quietly.