Chapter 10 - The Real Family
One year later.
The penthouse was filled with the smell of roasting turkey and fresh pine. Jazz music played softly from the speakers.
Julian stood in the kitchen, laughing as Marcus—who was now an honorary uncle—struggled to carve the holiday roast. The apartment was packed with people: Julian's close friends, colleagues, and neighbors. It was loud, chaotic, and wonderfully diverse.
There were no matching tartans. There was no hired photographer charging by the hour.
Julian felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down to see Mia. She was nine now, taller, and radiating a quiet, unshakeable confidence. She was wearing a bright purple dress she had picked out herself, covered in glitter that was definitely getting on the furniture. Julian didn't care at all.
"Papa, Marcus says the food is ready," she announced.
"Alright, let's get everyone to the table," Julian smiled.
As they gathered around the massive dining table, Julian raised a glass of cider. He looked at the faces around him—people who loved him, people who loved Mia, people who didn't care about aesthetics or old money.
In the past year, his parents had been shunned by their elite circles. Sarah and Greg had moved to a smaller town in disgrace after the business collapsed. Julian hadn't spoken to them since that night at the gala, and he felt lighter and happier than he had in his entire life.
"To family," Julian said, his eyes finding Mia's across the table.
Mia raised her own glass of cider, her smile bright and genuine.
May you like
"To family," she echoed.
There were no dirty dishes waiting for her in the kitchen. There were no hidden conditions to her belonging. She was exactly where she was meant to be—in the center of the picture, loved exactly as she was.
