The grand hall gleamed with polished wood floors and high vaulted ceilings. Warm autumn light spilled through the tall windows as banners bearing the 'Darcy-Bennett' Foundation's emblem fluttered gently from above. The air buzzed with conversation—donors, partners, press—all gathered to witness the formal unveiling of the Foundation's new global initiative.
But Eliza only had eyes for two people.
She caught sight of Will across the room—sharp in a dark blazer, Lyra nestled against his chest in a cream cardigan with tiny bear ears on the hood. Her heart softened instantly.
"You ready?" came Marissa's voice beside her, clipboard in hand.
Eliza exhaled, turning back to her colleague. "As I'll ever be."
She stepped onto the stage, and the hall quieted.
Her voice carried with practiced confidence—but this time, the fire behind her words came from someplace deeper. Not just ambition or legacy. But love.
"We began this Foundation with one dream: to change the world—not through power or perfection, but through compassion. And in this next chapter, we're extending our reach to places we never thought possible…"
She spoke of healthcare equity. Of education in underserved regions. Of rebuilding communities fractured by systems that forgot them. She wove statistics into stories, numbers into names, and by the time she stepped down, the room had risen to its feet in applause.
From the far end of the room, Will clapped with one hand while bouncing Lyra gently with the other.
She walked straight to them.
"You did it," Will said as she approached, eyes shining.
"I'm still shaking," Eliza admitted, slipping an arm around his waist.
Lyra grabbed her mother's necklace and gurgled with delight.
"She didn't cry once," Will whispered. "Though I might've gotten misty when you brought up your parents' old community center."
Eliza leaned her forehead against his. "Thank you for being here."
"Always," he murmured.
They stayed like that for a moment—Eliza in heels and a tailored cream suit, Will warm against her side, and Lyra babbling between them, oblivious to the attention they drew.
Later that evening, after press photos and a small celebratory dinner with close friends, they returned home, exhausted but full.
Eliza changed into one of Will's old sweatshirts and padded into the nursery, watching Lyra sleep.
"I used to think power meant control," she whispered to the dim room. "Now I think it means peace."
Will came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"She's going to grow up knowing exactly what kind of woman her mother is."
Eliza smiled. "And what kind of man her father is. My partner in everything."
He kissed her cheek. "Always in your corner."