Months passed. The legal battle was draining. Preston and Valerie glared at them across the courtroom, their faces twisted with resentment. Corinne gave testimony, refusing to let intimidation silence her.

When the judge finally ruled, his voice carried through the room. “The property and accumulated assets shall remain with Augusta and Raymond Keller. There is clear evidence of coercion and fraudulent intent.”

Augusta wept. Raymond covered his face with calloused hands. Corinne closed her eyes and allowed relief to wash over her. Justice had not arrived swiftly—it had arrived precisely when it was needed.

The Kellers invited Corinne to live with them on their estate just outside Silvergrove. It was a sprawling farmhouse with ivy climbing the porch rails and ancient oaks lining the gravel drive. Corinne had never experienced a place that felt like the embodiment of peace. She accepted—not out of obligation, but out of a sense of home she had long believed she would never know.

The years that followed were full. Corinne learned to garden. She adopted a stray dog the Kellers named Biscuit. She cooked with Augusta, who taught her to make blackberry pie that tasted like summer itself. Raymond shared stories from his youth—tales of traveling musicians, harvest festivals, and simpler times—that made Corinne feel the world was larger and kinder than she had ever allowed herself to believe.

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