The first week of January felt strangely calm.

I had long video calls with Olga and the girls back in Berlin. We laughed about hospital drama, they teased me about being a "billionaire baby mama," and for a moment it felt like old times. But when the call ended, the silence in the mansion pressed in again. I sat on the window seat in our bedroom, staring at the London skyline, and realized I couldn't keep floating like this.

I needed purpose.

I grabbed a notebook and pen from Mateo's desk and started writing. The words poured out of me.

- Open a high-end fitness center (pregnancy-friendly, luxury)

- Own...