The millionaire’s four-year-old son hadn’t walked or spoken for 14 months after a tragic crash took his mother’s life.

The echoes of Samuel’s scream hung in the air like a thunderclap.

Richard’s face went from pale to a dark, furious crimson. He took an aggressive step toward the staircase, raising his heavy gold-tipped cane. "What lie did you put in this boy's head?!"

Destiny didn't hesitate. She threw herself between Richard and the stairs, her broad posture blocking his path completely.

"Back away from him!" Destiny shouted, her voice booming through the foyer with absolute authority.

"Get out of my way, girl!" Richard snarled, reaching out to shove her aside.

At that exact moment, the heavy front doors burst open.

Matthew stepped into the foyer, flanked by two corporate security officers. He had rushed home from his board meeting the second his phone alerted him to Richard’s unauthorized arrival on the property grounds.

"Touch her, Richard, and I’ll break your neck where you stand!" Matthew roared, stepping into the hall like an enraged storm.

Richard pulled his hand back quickly, smoothing his tailored suit, trying desperately to regain his refined composure. "Matthew! Thank God you're here! This woman has brainwashed your son! The boy is shouting hysterical lies—"

"Get off my property," Matthew said, his gray eyes burning with lethal fury as he stepped in front of Destiny.

"Matthew, be reasonable! I came here as your family—"

"Marcus! Escort him to his car," Matthew ordered his chief of security. "If he sets foot on this estate again, shoot him for trespassing."

The two armed guards stepped forward, grabbing Richard’s arms and forcibly marching him out the heavy oak doors into the rain.

Once the doors slammed shut, Matthew turned around and ran up the stairs three at a time, pulling Samuel into his arms. The four-year-old boy sobbed hysterically into his father's shoulder, his small arms wrapped tightly around Matthew’s neck.

"It's okay, Sam... it's okay," Matthew wept softly, kissing his son's head. "I'm here. You're safe."

Destiny walked up the stairs slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. She looked at the small storage closet at the top of the landing—a linen closet she had cleaned on her very first day.

She remembered something she had noticed during her deep-clean two weeks ago: a small, dark velvet box tucked behind old bedsheets, labeled “Property of J.B.”—Julianna Blake.

Destiny walked over to the closet, opened the narrow door, and reached up to the highest shelf.

She pulled down the dusty velvet box and brought it over to Matthew.