Suddenly, Henry spoke. "Take him with you."

Elise blinked, certain she had misheard.

She lifted her gaze to Henry. In his eyes, she saw a flicker of resignation. A quiet surrender to the relentless tides of fate.

Even at seventy, confined to a wheelchair, he radiated vitality. His posture remained elegant, his presence commanding. She never imagined witnessing his spirit bow to circumstance. She believed age might weaken his body, but never his indomitable will.

"James will live with you from now on," Henry repeated, his voice steady.

"What about you?" Elise didn't refuse. She couldn't.

Besides, if Henry had reached this decision, he had undoubtedly weighed every consequence.

"I've lived a long life. It's time to let go," he said, his tone somber. "I was once consumed by ambition. I demanded too much. The family prospered as I envisioned… but years of autocratic rule bore bitter fruit. Perhaps my foundation was flawed from the beginning."

There was no denying it.

When a man of such stature uttered these words, it signaled a profound capitulation.

Henry's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he continued. "I was the one who sent William's parents abroad for that business negotiation. They would never have been in that fatal accident if not for me. I was the one who forbade Ethan's relationship with Elizabeth, leading directly to his accident. If I had set aside my pride and prejudice, allowed Elizabeth to stay, Ethan would have been content here at the manor. So much tragedy… avoidable."

"Ethan's situation wasn't your fault…" Elise began, her voice soft.

Henry shook his head, a weary gesture that accepted the burden of all sins.

"And now, William. If I hadn't stubbornly insisted he marry Victoria Stuart, if I had supported him instead… he wouldn't be forced to such extremes to break the engagement."

Elise fell silent. Henry was being crushed beneath the weight of his life's choices. He seemed to have aged decades in mere moments.

"I will go abroad. Stay with Ethan during his treatment. That leaves Nancy and Cora. I intend to leave the majority of Levine Holdings' affairs in Nancy's hands. Though I doubt she can manage it. Her focus was never on business…"

His tone was detached, as if the colossal enterprise of Levine Holdings no longer mattered. A newfound openness colored his words. "And if Nancy cannot sustain it… I will liquidate Levine Holdings. No more fame. No more glory. We'll return to being ordinary people. Perhaps then… there will be less tragedy."

When ambition fades, wealth and influence lose their luster. They become trivial.