The Whitestone Estate woke slowly to a muted sunrise, the sky streaked with gold and pink as if nature itself was celebrating the quiet victory that had been won. Catalina moved through the corridors with a deliberate slowness, each step measured, each breath taken as though she were anchoring herself to the reality that had finally begun to feel stable. After weeks of tension, betrayal, and heartbreak, Frederick’s memory was returning piece by piece, yet she knew the process was delicate. One wrong move, one harsh word, and the fragile bond they had reestablished could shatter like glass.

She entered the kitchen quietly, preparing breakfast with calm precision. The clinking...