Chapter 14
The Morretti estate changed after the cases ended.
Not cosmetically.
Structurally.
No spouse or relative could alter an elderly family member’s care without independent medical confirmation.
Household employees received direct reporting channels outside the family hierarchy.
Meals and medications were logged only where medically necessary, not as surveillance.
Greta became estate operations manager.
Cassian offered her the promotion.
She accepted on conditions.
“No relatives giving me unofficial orders.”
“Agreed.”
“No pretending something came from you unless I verify it.”
“Agreed.”
“And two weekends off every month.”
Cassian stared at her.
“That’s your hardest demand?”
“I’ve worked here nine years. You people ruin weekends professionally.”
He laughed.
“Done.”
Estelle returned to her old suite.
The memory-care brochures disappeared.
She personally supervised that.
“Burn them.”
Greta raised an eyebrow.
“Recycle them.”
Estelle sighed.
“Fine.”
Her clothes returned from storage.
Her jewelry returned.
The leash did not.
Cassian had wanted it destroyed.
Estelle stopped him.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want it.”
“Exactly.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“I don’t want you deciding I’m too fragile to see something.”
She asked Greta to place the leash in the evidence archive until every case was finished.
Then it was disposed of through counsel.
No shrine.
No dramatic burning.
It was evidence.
Then garbage.
That pleased Estelle more.
Months later, she began cooking Sunday dinner again.
Not every week.
Her knees hurt.
She forgot ingredients.
Greta helped.
One Sunday Cassian entered the kitchen and found his mother angrily accusing a chicken of taking too long.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“It’s dead.”
“That doesn’t mean it can waste my afternoon.”
Cassian laughed until she threatened him with a wooden spoon.
The house felt like a house again.
May you like
Not a courtroom.
That was the recovery no legal filing could produce.
