Chapter 13 - Autumn Evenings at Prescott Manor
As October deepened, the sprawling Prescott estate returned to a rhythm of quiet elegance and genuine warmth.
The staff—groundskeeper, housekeeper, and accountants—had all been briefed on the new security protocols, but more importantly, the heavy, artificial atmosphere that Florence had tried to impose was gone. The house smelled of burning hickory wood, vanilla candles, and fresh coffee rather than expensive, performative luxury.
One evening, after putting Leo to sleep in the guest bedroom upstairs, Christina walked down the grand staircase to find her father sitting by the fireplace, reading an old leather-bound volume of poetry.
She walked over and poured two glasses of aged bourbon, handing one to Jonathan before sitting across from him.
“Quiet night,” Christina remarked, gazing into the amber flames.
“The best kind of night,” Jonathan agreed, setting his book down on the side table. He took a slow sip of the bourbon, letting the warmth settle in. “Marcus called this afternoon. Florence’s defense team tried to suppress the USB drive evidence, claiming it was obtained via a minor.”
Christina stiffened slightly, a flash of protective motherly instinct crossing her face. “On what grounds?”
“On the grounds that a three-year-old doesn't understand chain of custody,” Jonathan chuckled dryly. “The judge threw their motion out of court in under five minutes, noting that a child acting as a courier for his assaulted mother is legally admissible when backed by physical video corroboration.”
Christina let out a long breath of relief, leaning back in her chair. “Good. I was worried they’d find some technicality to wiggle out of responsibility.”
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“They won't,” Jonathan said firmly. “The system is working, Christina. And more importantly, our family is safe.”
He looked around the spacious living room, noticing the framed photographs on the mantelpiece—pictures of Christina when she was little, family vacations in Maine, and recent snapshots of Leo laughing in the garden. None of them featured Florence. The interloper had been completely erased, leaving behind only the authentic history of the Prescott family.
