POV: Jasmine
Dinner gathered itself the way it always did now, not formal, not arranged, but inevitable, everyone finding their place without needing to be told.
The table was full, the room warm, and Eleanor’s photograph rested on the mantel above us, quiet and constant in a way that anchored everything else.
Aurora sat in her high chair between Liam and me, her small hands already busy with something she had decided was important, narrating it in her own language. None of us understood the words, but all of us understood the certainty behind them.
Asher sat across from me, his posture steadier now, his strength returned enough that the effort no longer showed in every movement.
Finn leaned back in his chair, one arm draped loosely, watching the room with that ease he carried even when he was paying attention.
Leo and Nora sat side by side, close enough that the space between them no longer existed in any meaningful way. Their conversation folded easily into the rest of us, not separate, not announced, just part of the whole.
I had cooked more than necessary, moving through it earlier in the day with a focus that gave shape to something I hadn’t named out loud. Plates moved, glasses filled, and the rhythm of the table settled into something steady.
Aurora tapped her spoon against the tray and said something that sounded definitive, and Finn leaned forward slightly, his expression serious in a way that made it impossible to ignore.
“I agree completely,” he said. “That’s exactly how I would handle it.”
She laughed, satisfied, and continued, her voice carrying across the table without interruption, as if she had been understood exactly.
We ate and talked, the conversation moving easily, shifting between subjects without effort, the kind of flow that came from people who didn’t need to perform for each other. Nothing felt forced, nothing needed to be held up.
At some point, Liam set his glass down, not abruptly, but with enough intention that the shift registered across the table. The movement was small, but it carried weight.
“I want to say something,” he said.
The room quieted immediately, not tense, not uncertain, just still in the way it always did when he spoke like that. Aurora continued her quiet commentary, her presence grounding the moment rather than breaking it.
Liam looked around the table once before continuing, his gaze moving from one to the next without hesitation. He didn’t rush it, didn’t soften it.
“I’ve been thinking about where my time is going,” he said. “And where I want it to go.”
His hand rested lightly against the edge of the table, steady, the words landing without performance.
“Aurora is growing,” he continued. “And there may be other children. I don’t want to look up in a few years and realize I missed it because I was somewhere else.”
No one interrupted him, and no one needed to.
“I built something I’m proud of,” he said. “But I don’t need to be in every part of it anymore. Not at the cost of this.”
His gaze shifted briefly toward me, then returned to the table, anchoring what he was saying in something real.
“I want to restructure,” he said. “Asher as CEO. Finn as COO. Jasmine as Chief Creative Producer.”
The words settled without resistance, not questioned, not challenged, just placed where they belonged.
“I’ll stay on the board,” he added. “Majority stake. Strategic direction. But not day-to-day.”
The room held still for a beat after he finished, not from uncertainty, but from the weight of what he had just set in place. It didn’t need explanation.
Asher set his glass down, the quiet sound marking the shift more clearly than anything else. He looked at Liam, not immediately speaking.
“Liam,” he said finally, his voice low. “Are you sure?”
Liam didn’t hesitate, didn’t look away, didn’t reconsider.
“Yes,” he said. “You’re stronger than you’ve ever been. You came out of this understanding what matters.”
He leaned forward slightly, his focus direct and clear.
“You’re the best CEO Cadence can have,” he said.
Asher held his gaze for a second longer, then let it move, briefly, to Finn, then to me, taking in the full shape of what was being offered. He didn’t rush his answer.
“I will accept,” he said. He paused just enough to make the condition clear. “If Finn is with me.”
Finn didn’t shift in his chair, didn’t dramatize it, his answer immediate.
“I’m with you,” he said. That was enough.
I felt something settle quietly into place as I looked at Liam, the role I had already been living simply given a name now. It didn’t change what I did, only made it visible.
Liam reached for his glass again, lifting it slightly, and the rest of us followed without hesitation. The moment didn’t require more than that.
“To mom,” he said.
“To family,” Finn added.
“To Cadence,” Asher finished.
We raised our glasses together, the gesture simple, the meaning already understood.
Aurora clapped her hands against her tray again, just like she did previously, delighted by the motion more than the meaning, her laughter cutting through the moment in a way that made all of us smile. The glasses lowered slowly, the decision already settling into the room.
The energy didn’t break after that, it softened, shifting naturally as plates were cleared and chairs moved, conversation dividing into quieter strands without losing the sense of being held together.
Asher stood from the table and caught Liam’s attention with a look that didn’t need words, something quiet but deliberate passing between them. It was enough.
“Come here,” he said, his voice low.
They stepped aside without leaving the room completely, creating just enough distance for the conversation to belong to them while still remaining part of the evening.
“I have a condition,” Asher said.
Liam nodded once, steady. “I figured you might.”
Asher’s gaze lifted briefly, just enough to take in the room — the table, the photograph, the people — before returning to Liam with full focus.
“I want Eleanor’s name first in the founding documents,” he said. “Not Jackson’s. Not yours. Eleanor’s.”
The words settled cleanly, without resistance, without needing explanation. Liam didn’t hesitate, his answer immediate and certain.
“I wanted the same,” he said.
There was no negotiation, no adjustment, just alignment that had been there longer than either of them had said out loud. The moment held for a second, then settled into something permanent.