Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
The weeks that follow unravel in strange, surreal ways. September blurs into October, and then November, until the dates on the calendar stop meaning much at all. My life becomes a revolving door of meetings, legal briefings, and endless cups of tea.
Leon flies back to Orlando shortly after the press conference to manage the fallout in the States, but Theo and I stay in the UK while the initial stages of the criminal investigation unfold.
We split our time between his London flat and Nan’s cottage in Devon, trying to keep our footing while the ground beneath us continues to shift.
We’re only there long enough to finish our part in the proceedings.
By the mid-November, the investigators have what they need and we head back home. To Orlando.
So much happens in such quick succession that it’s hard to keep the timeline straight.
In all, nearly thirty former Excelsior employees come forward—some with new complaints, but most with stories years in the making.
They detail the abuse, intimidation, and corruption they’ve endured under Cuthbert Harris’ thumb.
Lawyers on both sides of the Atlantic are now assembling cases designed to hold up in both the UK and the US. With everything he’s done, there’s a very real possibility he’ll face criminal charges—not just for harassment and coercion, but for something far more damning.
The legal team Nan retained has uncovered a financial minefield stretching back more than fifteen years, long before Theo’s grandfather passed away.
Money was funneled through shell accounts and transfers were disguised as routine expenses.
The trail only became visible once Mr. Harris grew careless enough to move funds directly from company accounts into his own.
It’s strange how quickly a person can go from being untouchable to being cornered. With every witness who comes forward and each document that’s unearthed, another thread unravels from the empire he built on intimidation and fear.
Theo hasn’t spoken much about how he feels about it all, but the emotions live plainly on his face every time new evidence surfaces.
Relief that the truth is finally coming out.
Grief because the man being exposed is still his father, and his grandfather’s company likely won’t survive another year.
And deep, quiet anger that it’s taken this long for the truth to come to light.
Through it all, we settle into something steady.
It’s a rhythm built on quiet gestures—reaching for a hand when the words don’t come, offering comfort without being asked, and kissing for reassurance as much as for passion.
It isn’t perfect, but it’s real. We’ve become each other’s lifelines, tethering one another back to shore whenever the tide threatens to pull us under.
Unsurprisingly, Theo’s father isn’t handling his fall from power well. He’s tried everything to get us to drop the charges, from frantic calls and vitriolic emails to pounding on the door of Theo’s London flat at two in the morning.
But between Nan’s private security and my own protection officers, he is turned away every single time. It’s the first hard boundary Theo has ever drawn with him. Even though I can see how much it hurts him, he isn’t yielding. Not this time.
What surprised everyone, including Theo, is how quickly his new venture has taken shape in the wreckage.
Nan can’t persuade Theo to take the helm of Excelsior Parks, but she does convince him to take over the Orlando office.
As she pointed out, it has been an Excelsior property in name only for a long time.
Theo has already been running it on his own terms—hiring the staff, shaping the culture, and building the client relationships.
When the transfer of the Orlando assets is complete, Theo announces that anyone who wants to stay with Excelsior can transfer to London or leave on their own terms, no questions asked. So far he’s retained one hundred percent of his staff. It says everything about the kind of leader he is.
As for the future, I’ve had to think carefully about my own next steps.
On paper, the obvious choice is to join Theo outright—to fold my career neatly into his the same way our lives have intertwined. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that isn’t quite right. It isn’t about a lack of trust; it’s because I finally trust myself enough to know what I need.
I’m still a junior engineer with less than six months of real-world experience.
These past few months have thrown me into the deep end, but they haven’t replaced the years of learning I still have ahead of me.
I don’t want my growth to come with an asterisk, or my successes to be quietly attributed to proximity rather than skill.
With Anya’s help, we find a middle ground.
I won’t be Theo’s employee. Not yet. Instead, I’ll work with his firm as an independent engineer on a project-by-project basis while continuing to report to Anya.
It’s a structure that protects both of us and gives me the space to become the engineer I want to be.
It isn’t the simplest solution, but it’s the healthiest one.
One unexpected advantage of working alongside Theo is more freedom to make space for the diplomatic side of my life. I no longer have to compartmentalize. The princess and the engineer aren’t competing roles; they coexist. For the first time, the balance feels natural.
It’s January now, and my first major diplomatic visit to Ireland is this weekend. But first, we’re back in London, where we’ve spent the last two days finalizing a small pier-side coaster project in Brighton.
“Kaori?” Theo asks gently, looking at me over the top of his laptop.
We’re sitting side by side on the sofa in his flat. It’s just past teatime, and the sky is already bruised with purple and gray. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how early the sun sets here in the winter.
“Mmm?” I click Save on the rendering of the loading area I’ve been tinkering with for the last hour and glance over at him.
“Are you packed and ready for the big trip?”
“I’m packed,” I say, stretching my arms over my head until my back cracks.
“You are?” Theo arches an eyebrow, looking skeptical. “I only saw one suitcase in the hallway. Aren’t you supposed to have, I don’t know, an outfit for every possible diplomatic moment?”
“Normally, yes.” I close my laptop and give him a small smile. “But this is my first solo visit, and my secretary in Tokyo handled the logistics. My formal kimono alone takes up two giant trunks. They’re already waiting for me at the embassy in Dublin.”
His eyes widen. “You’re wearing a kimono?”
“Mm-hmm. For the formal reception on the final night.” I exhale softly, trying to force a sense of confidence into my voice that I don’t quite feel yet. “And I was hoping you might be my date.”
“You want me?” He swivels fully toward me, his focus narrowing. “Is that even allowed? You’d be photographed with me. People will make assumptions. And we only just managed to get out of the tabloids.”
“I don’t care.” The words come out easier, more certain, than I expected. “You’re my boyfriend. Photos of us appearing together are part of the reality of being with me and I hope that doesn’t—” My breath stutters for a second as the weight of that reality hits me.
Theo doesn’t let me finish. He reaches out, threading his fingers through mine. “Kaori. Stop. I love you.”
My heart somersaults. He squeezes my hand. “I love all of you,” he continues. “Princess. Engineer. The woman who crashes into me on bad days and makes them better. I don’t love the attention, but if it’s the price of having you . . . it’s well worth it.”
He pulls me onto his lap, his arms sliding around my waist and pulling me flush against him. “You know,” I tell him, nestling into the crook of his neck, “if I marry someday, I lose my title. I’d be a commoner. I’d be just like you.”
Theo snorts, the sound vibrating against my chest. “You’re perfect exactly as you are, Kaori. But trust me. You don’t want to be just like me.”
“Okay,” I whisper, resting my forehead against his shoulder. “Maybe not exactly. But I do want to be a little like you. I want your design instincts. Your quick thinking. Your surprisingly dramatic speeches. And,” I add, looking up at him through my lashes, “your ability to kiss.”
His laugh rumbles deep in his chest. “That last one? I think I can help you with that.”
I tilt my head up, and our lips meet halfway. It’s a soft, warm, steady kiss—the kind that feels like finally standing on solid ground after months of navigating sinkholes.
It’s a promise made without needing the words.