The afternoon sunlight slanted through the tall windows of the Prescott estate.
Elizabeth sat at the edge of the armchair, her fingers wrapped around a cup of tea gone cold. Across from her, James Prescott stood near the fireplace, hands clasped behind his back, his suit still immaculate despite the long day. He looked like a man made of stone, polished, powerful, and painfully tired.
For a long while, neither spoke.
Then, in his deep, measured tone, James finally said, "It's done."
Elizabeth's eyes lifted. "What is?"
He turned toward her, his expression unreadable. "The transfer. The documents for the Prescott Holdings subsidiary, the last deal closed this morning. I've signed everything over to Jace."
The words hung heavy in the air, heavier than the quiet that followed.
Elizabeth blinked. "You what?"
James exhaled through his nose, the faintest edge of frustration in his voice. "I signed the ownership papers. The properties. The shares. The accounts. Everything. They're all in his name now."
Elizabeth set her cup down, her hands trembling slightly. "James…"
He looked at her, calm but restless, as if waiting for her to approve.
She didn't.
Instead, she leaned back, eyes filled with a weary kind of disbelief. "Honestly, I'm not against you signing everything to Jace, but this isn't how to fix things between you and your estranged son"
James stiffened. "It's a start."
"No," she said quietly. "It's not." He turned away from her, toward the wide window where the late afternoon sun stretched across the manicured lawn. "He hates me, Elizabeth. He won't pick up my calls, won't reply to my emails,I don't even know whether he received my emails or he just chose not to open it. I've tried everything. What else am I supposed to do?"
"Try talking to him," she said, her tone soft but firm. "Try listening, not buying your way into forgiveness."
"I'm not buying anything," he muttered.
"Yes, you are," she said, rising to her feet. "You're trying to turn guilt into inheritance. You can't sign away what you did or what you didn't do."
James's jaw flexed. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't remember every goddamn day what my negligence cost this family?"
Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly, as if steadying herself. "Then stop repeating the same mistakes, James."
His voice softened. "You think he won't accept it?"
"I know he won't," she said. "Jace doesn't care about the company, or the money. He's happy. Really happy. You've seen his photos, haven't you? The exhibitions, the galleries mentioning him online, the people moved by his work, he's finally living the life he was meant to, not the one you planned for him."
James's shoulders sagged. "He should've been the one sitting in my office, not behind a lens."
Elizabeth walked closer, her voice a whisper. "He's behind that lens because that's where he sees the world, its pain, its beauty, its honesty. You never understood that."
He turned to her then, eyes glinting with something raw... regret, maybe. "Maybe I'm trying to understand it now. Maybe this is my way of saying I was wrong."
Elizabeth shook her head, the faintest smile of sadness curving her lips. "Then tell him that. Not me. Him."
Just as the silence began to settle again, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Nick appeared at the doorway, still in his grey suit, holding a sleek shopping bag in one hand and a polite smile on his face. "Afternoon, Mr. Prescott. Mrs. Prescott."
Elizabeth's face softened instantly as she gave him a hug. "Nick, darling. I didn't know you were stopping by."
He stepped in and placed the bag gently on the coffee table. "Becca sent me. It's the dresses you wanted, she got them for you"
"Oh!" Elizabeth smiled warmly. "That girl, always doing so much for me"
James nodded in greeting, his voice more formal. "Nicholas. How's work?"
Nick straightened slightly, his tone polite but confident. "Busy, sir. We just wrapped a new deal with the architectural division in Singapore. I'll actually be flying there in two weeks to oversee the final phase."
James's brow lifted with genuine interest. "Singapore? Impressive. I told Rebecca you had a sharp head for international operations. Prescott Holdings could use someone with that drive."
Nick gave a modest laugh. "Thank you, sir, but the firm keeps me busy enough. Corporate architecture has its own brand of chaos."
Elizabeth chuckled softly. "That sounds about right. Tell Rebecca I said thank you, dear."
"I will," Nick said, glancing at his watch. "I should head back before traffic builds up. It was lovely seeing you both."
"Drive safe," Elizabeth said kindly.
As he left, the front door clicking softly behind him, the air in the room seemed to change again heavier.
James moved to speak, but Elizabeth raised a hand gently. "Not now, James."
He frowned. "Elizabeth...."
She turned away from him, walking toward the window.. "You've done enough for one evening. Let's not turn it into another argument."
James's voice lowered, the edge fading. "I wasn't trying to argue."
"I know," she said, her tone softening, "but every time you talk about fixing things, you end up breaking a little more."
He stood there for a moment, silent, watching her profile, graceful, composed, strong in a way that humbled him.
Finally, he nodded once, almost to himself. "Alright. We'll talk later."
Elizabeth didn't answer immediately. She just looked out the window, her reflection overlapping with his in the glass, two people standing side by side, bound by love and years and mistakes too deep for words.
After a long pause, she murmured quietly, almost to herself, "I just hope you're doing this for the right reason, James. Not to feel better about the past, but to finally let it go."
James didn't respond.
He simply stood there, still and silent, his gaze fixed on the horizon as the golden light dimmed into evening.