Chapter 58

“Tell me about the stars again, Grandpa Franklin,” five-month-old Charlotte babbled in her own baby language, reaching for the twinkling lights Emma had strung around Franklin’s hospital bed at home.

Franklin’s weathered hand, now so thin the veins stood out like roadmaps, gently caught Charlotte’s tiny fingers. “Those aren’t just lights, little princess,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Those are all the dreams your great-great-grandmother and I shared. Each one burns for you now.”

Emma sat in the chair beside his bed, seven-week-old Frankie sleeping against her chest, tears silently streaming down her cheeks. Three weeks had passed since their decision to move to New York, but Franklin’s condition had deteriorated so rapidly that travel was now impossible. Instead, they’d converted the mansion’s sunroom into a makeshift hospice, filling it with everything that brought him joy—family photos, fresh flowers, and most importantly, his great-grandchildren.

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