Three months later, the bright autumn sun shone through the tall windows of the executive corner office on the top floor of Montgomery Tower.
Chloe sat behind the dark oak desk that once belonged to her late husband, reviewing quarterly financial reports with Claire.
Claire: The public relations team did an amazing job, Chloe. Our stock price has recovered completely since the arrest.
Chloe: Good. The new transparency policies are working.
Claire: Have you heard from Brandon's public defender?
Chloe: He offered a plea deal this morning. Twelve years in federal prison in exchange for returning the remaining two million from his offshore account.
Claire: Is he taking it?
Chloe: He doesn't have a choice. The evidence against him is overwhelming.
There was a gentle knock on the door, and Thomas, the family butler, walked in carrying a small tray with two cups of tea.
Butler: Your afternoon tea, Mrs. Montgomery.
Chloe: Thank you, Thomas. You don't have to call me Mrs. Montgomery here. Chloe is fine.
Butler: Force of habit, ma'am. The estate feels much quieter these days without the constant arguments.
Claire: It feels like a real home again, Thomas.
Butler: Indeed it does, Miss Claire.
Aunt Martha walked into the office, carrying a framed photograph of David and Chloe on their wedding day.
Aunt Martha: I found this in the archived storage downstairs, Chloe. I thought it belonged up here on your desk.
Chloe: Thank you, Martha. That means a lot to me.
Aunt Martha: I owe you an apology, my dear. For a long time, I thought you were an outsider who didn't understand our family values.
Chloe: Family values aren't about last names, Martha. They're about doing the right thing, even when it's hard.
Aunt Martha: You protected David's memory when his own brother tried to tear it down. You are more of a Montgomery than Brandon ever was.
Claire: Hear, hear!
The women smiled, raising their teacups together in a warm, quiet toast.
Chloe: To the future of Montgomery Logistics.
Aunt Martha: To the future.