One ear was bigger than the other, one paw looked suspiciously like a potato, and the tiny wooden tie she had glued under its chin leaned sideways.

At 7:00 AM, the house was suffocatingly quiet.

Lucy crept down the staircase, wearing her oversized pink pajamas. Her lower lip was visibly swollen, a dark purple contusion blooming across the delicate skin of her left jaw. She hesitated at the threshold of the kitchen, peering in timidly.

Eleanor was already there, wearing an impeccably tailored navy suit, her blonde hair swept into a sharp chignon. The breakfast table was set with blueberry pancakes, fresh orange juice, and sliced strawberries.

“Morning, my brave girl,” Eleanor said, offering a warm, reassuring smile.

Lucy looked down at her bare feet. “Is Dad mad at me?”

Eleanor walked over, knelt down so their eyes met, and gently smoothed back Lucy’s hair. “Your father’s feelings are not your responsibility, Lucy. You did nothing wrong. Today, we are going to see Dr. Harris to make sure your lip heals perfectly, and then we are going to go to the park.”

“Does Dad still have the bear?”

Eleanor swallowed the knot of grief in her throat. “The bear is in my purse, safe and sound. Come eat. We have a big day.”

Ten minutes later, heavy footsteps echoed down the grand oak staircase.

Grant entered the kitchen, dressed in his custom charcoal Zegna suit, checking emails on his phone. He barely glanced at his daughter. “Eleanor, where is my passport? I need it for the Zurich summit next week.”

Eleanor didn’t look up from pouring Lucy’s milk. “In the safe.”

Grant finally looked across the kitchen island and caught sight of Lucy. He paused, his expression flickering with a brief pang of discomfort when he saw the dark bruise on her face. But instead of softening, his jaw tightened defensively.

“Lucy,” he said, his tone brisk and businesslike. “Come here.”

Lucy gripped her mother’s skirt, shrinking back.

Grant frowned, clearly annoyed by the instinctive fear. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m your father. Yesterday got out of hand. Vanessa was startled, and she overreacted. But you have to learn that the corporate offices aren't a playground. We don't run around barging through closed doors. Do you understand?”

Lucy buried her face into Eleanor’s hip, trembling.

Eleanor stood up slowly. Her gaze hit Grant like arctic water. “Don’t speak to her.”

Grant scoffed. “I’m parenting my daughter, Eleanor. You’ve coddled her so much she thinks the world revolves around her feelings. A real Whitmore doesn't cry over a minor scuffle.”

“She isn’t a Whitmore,” Eleanor said, her voice dangerously quiet. “She is a Vance. And you will never speak to her again without my attorney present.”

Grant laughed, an arrogant, grating sound. “An attorney? Are you threatening me with a custody battle? Eleanor, you don’t have an income. You haven't worked a corporate job in nearly a decade. Do you really think a family court judge will grant sole custody to a decorative housewife over the sitting CEO of Whitmore Aeronautics?”

“We aren't going to family court today, Grant.” Eleanor picked up her purse and took Lucy’s small hand. “We’re going to the precinct.”

Grant’s smile vanished instantly. His eyes went wide. “What did you say?”

“I am taking Lucy to Dr. Harris for a forensic trauma assessment. Then we are meeting Detective Miller at the Central Division to file felony charges of assault on a minor against Vanessa Price.”

Grant lunged forward, grabbing Eleanor’s wrist. “Are you out of your mind? If you bring the police into this, the press will destroy our stock before noon! Do you have any idea what an arrest will do to our military defense bids?”

Eleanor looked down at his hand gripping her wrist. She didn’t yell. She didn’t panic.

“Take your hands off me, Grant,” she said, each syllable crystalline. “Or I will add domestic battery against the mother of your child to the police report.”

Grant snatched his hand back as if he had touched hot iron. His face flushed red with fury. “You’re bluffing. You love this lifestyle too much. You love the galas, the house, the Hampton estate. You wouldn’t dare burn it down.”

Eleanor looked him dead in the eye.