Eliza stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of her office, arms crossed loosely over her chest as she stared at the empty plot outlined in red on the architectural plans before her. The sun cast golden streaks across the desk, glinting off paperweights and the rim of her coffee cup.
It had been two years since the Foundation had launched its most ambitious health initiative. Now, they were ready to expand—to a space that would serve as a rehabilitation and outreach center in one of the city's most neglected districts.
But this one felt different.
Bigger. More complex. More personal.
"We're not just building walls this time," Eliza murmured aloud. "We're creating a place that heals, that stays."
Will's voice came from behind her. "You always say that before every new project."
She turned and smiled. He leaned in the doorway, casual in a dark shirt and rolled sleeves, holding a tablet in one hand and a strawberry juice box in the other.
"Is that Lyra's?"
He took a sip from the straw, eyes gleaming. "She said I could have it if I promised to save her some 'paper squishies' from the recycling box."
"Deal of the century," Eliza said, walking over to him. "You looked through the donor brief?"
He handed her the tablet. "There are three firms interested in co-funding it. One of them wants naming rights. I told them you'd say no."
"Correct."
He watched her for a beat longer, then said, "You sure you want to take this one on? It's going to mean longer days. More press. More pressure."
"I do," Eliza said without hesitation. "But only if we do it together. This is our work, Will. It always has been."
He stepped forward and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Then let's break ground."
By the end of the week, the site tour was booked, the initial design approved, and the donor team scheduled for an in-person pitch.
They took the afternoon off.
The nanny took Lyra to the park, and Will pulled Eliza into the car without saying where they were going. When they arrived, it was a quiet overlook just outside the city—where you could see the skyline from a distance, softened by trees and the winding river.
"This is where we first talked about building something beyond just wealth," he said. "Do you remember?"
"I was mad at you," Eliza replied, turning toward him. "You'd offered me a ridiculous amount of money to join your board and tried to charm me with sushi and skyline metaphors."
Will smirked. "It worked."
She laughed. "Eventually."
They stood there in silence for a moment.
Then Will said, "Let's make this new center our next legacy. And maybe, someday, when Lyra's older, she can walk those halls and know—this was part of her story too."
Eliza looked at him, her heart full in a way it hadn't been in a long time.
"She already has more than I ever did," she said quietly. "But I want her to know where it came from. That it wasn't handed down—it was built. From scratch. With love."
Will kissed her temple. "Then we better keep building."