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“Three days.”

I nod. “You have everything arranged?”

“Mostly,” she says.

“Amelia and Margaret helped with a few things, and the rest is straightforward.”

“Good.”

Blaire studies me for a moment before speaking again.

“Ross, if you need me to stay longer, I can.”

The offer lands directly against every argument I’ve spent the day building.

My answer still comes too quickly.

“No.”

Her face changes. I hear how cold it sounds, but if I soften now, I’m not sure I’ll finish what I came here to do.

“You don’t have to do that,” I say.

Blaire goes quiet for a moment, and the warmth that greeted me at the door begins to disappear from her expression.

She nods slowly and then she asks, “How’s Eleanor?”

I look away for a second before answering.

“She’s struggling. She’s eating a little more now, but some days are worse than others.”

“And Sebastian?” she asks.

“He’s holding it together,” I say.

“As much as any of us are.”

Blaire nods, then studies my face more closely. “And you?”

I hesitate long enough for her expression to change.

“I was formally named successor today,” I say.

“The transition starts immediately.”

Her eyes widen slightly. “Ross...”

“It was always the likely outcome,” I continue.

“But knowing that and actually stepping into it are two different things.”

Blaire takes a small step closer.

“What does that mean for you?”

“It means everything changes,” I say.

“London becomes the center of my life for the foreseeable future. Geneva stays active. The trustees want weekly briefings. The board wants stability. The markets are still reacting, and communications is managing every public move. There are meetings stacked on meetings, and half of them are with people who’ve known me since I was a child and still want proof that I can do what my father did.”