The Lost Heir: Trials of an Empire Reclaimed

Chapter 053

The late‐afternoon sun slanted through the glass atrium of Lancaster Industries’ lobby, painting soft gold pools on the marble floor as Nancy clipped her badge back into her pocket.

She offered warm smiles to the custodial staff emerging from the supply closet, one carrying a mop and another wheeling a cart stacked with cleaning supplies.

“Good evening, Mr. Santos! Ms. DeVries!” Nancy greeted, voice bright. “Thank you for all your hard work today.”

They nodded gratefully, and Nancy slipped through the turnstiles. Beyond the security doors, she strode to the curb, where a line of black cabs idled in the fading light.

She raised a hand—just one—when the nearest driver signaled and flushed the throttle.

“Home Care,” she instructed, “at St. Margaret’s Elderly Home, please.”

The taxi eased into traffic, and Nancy settled back against the leather seat.

Through the tinted window, the city’s financial district—glass towers and bustling sidewalks—melted into tree‐lined avenues and Victorian rowhouses.

Her mind churned with the day’s challenges: budget revisions, staff scheduling conflicts, the incessant demands of the new heir, Silas Lancaster.

Yet now, her thoughts drifted toward the quiet warmth awaiting her.

Minutes later, the taxi drew up outside St. Margaret’s: a red‐brick building with ivy winding up its façade and a bracket of steel lanterns flanking the entrance.

Nancy paid the driver and stepped onto the pavement. He tipped his cap. “All set, ma’am. Have a good evening.”

“You too. Thank you,” she replied, returning his nod.

Inside, the stately reception hall smelled of lavender polish and fresh potpourri. A mural of pastoral scenes unfurled across the far wall.

Two aides in soft blue uniforms glanced up and waved at Nancy—familiar faces from frequent visits.

“Ms. Nancy!” called the receptionist, a woman with snow‐white hair and lively eyes. “We thought you couldn’t make it today.”

Nancy slipped off her coat. “Work ran late,” she apologized, smiling. “But I wouldn’t miss my weekly visit.”

The receptionist opened a ledger. “Room 204—right down the hall.”

Nancy nodded, waved thanks, and walked through a corridor carpeted in burgundy plush. Framed needlepoint samplers and black‐and‐white photographs lined the walls, punctuated by sconce lights casting a gentle glow.

The air carried the faint hum of conversation, the occasional chime of a wheelchair.

At room 204, she knocked softly. “Grandma? It’s me, Nancy.”

A gentle, gravelly voice answered, “Come in, my dear.”

Nancy pushed open the door. Sunlight filtered through lace curtains into a cozy room furnished with a floral armchair, a small writing desk piled with greeting cards, and a mahogany side table supporting family photographs in silver frames.

A pot of orchids sat on the windowsill, their petals luminescent in the light.

Her grandmother—Evelyn—sat in the armchair, hair coiled in gentle waves of silver, a lace doily resting on her lap. She beamed at Nancy with eyes that still sparkled with mischief.

“Nancy!” Evelyn exclaimed, arms open. Nancy crossed the room and enveloped her grandmother in a warm hug.

“How are you, Grandma?” Nancy asked, brushing a strand of white hair from her grandmother’s forehead.

“Blessed,” Evelyn replied, patting Nancy’s hand. “How about you? How goes the battle at Lancaster?”

Nancy sighed, settling into the guest chair. “Hectic as always. The new heir—Mr. Silas Lancaster—has big plans, lots of changes. We’re all scrambling to keep up.”

Evelyn chuckled. “Oh, young blood. Always rushing ahead.” She leaned forward. “Tell me, is he better than Mat?” Her eyeline danced with curiosity—Mat being the former head of Lancaster who’d courted Nancy with earnest devotion.

Nancy let out a soft laugh. “Even better at strategy meetings,” she teased. “But he’s… different. More composed, more decisive.” She paused, expression faintly wistful. “It’s a lot to learn.”

Evelyn reached across and squeezed Nancy’s hand. “You deserve kindness too, my dear. And attention outside of work.” Her eyes twinkled. “Speaking of which—how are the other admirers? I’ve heard whispers.”

Nancy groaned, cheeks coloring. “Grandma! No one but work. I’ve been completely focused on my duties.”

Her grandmother wagged a finger. “Nonsense. You need room for love. A heart not filled with work is like a garden with only one flower. Too lonely.” She eyed Nancy knowingly. “Promise me—you’ll leave a little space for someone special.”

Nancy laughed more wholeheartedly this time. “I promise. If someone as marvelous as you thinks I deserve it.”

They slipped into comfortable chatter: the new charity gala in October, the latest novel Evelyn was reading, the neighbors’ cat that had adopted the residence.

Nancy explained a funny mix-up in the office where two interns accidentally switched presentations, drawing giggles from Evelyn, whose gentle cackle filled the room like sunshine.

As twilight deepened beyond the lace curtains, Evelyn’s eyelids fluttered. “My dear, I’m worn. That visit soothed my soul.”

Nancy rose and embraced her again. “Rest well, Grandma. I’ll see you next week—same time.”

Evelyn tucked the doily into her lap, resting a frail hand over Nancy’s. “My blessing goes with you. Remember, life needs work but also delight—laughter, love, and moments like this.”

Nancy smiled, eyes moist. “I will, Grandma.” She tapped her temple affectionately, then turned and began gathering her coat and bag.

At the door, Evelyn called softly, “Goodnight, Nancy.”

“Goodnight,” Nancy replied, leaning in for one last tender kiss on Evelyn’s cheek, quick and warm.

Stepping into the hall, Nancy felt the hush of the corridors embrace her as she made her way back to the entrance.

The reception desk light blinked over a row of care brochures. She picked up her coat, gave one last look before exiting into the crisp night air.

Outside, the world had shifted. Streetlights glowed golden against the dark sky, distant traffic whispered along the avenue.

Nancy exhaled, smoothing her skirt. Her heart was lighter, warmed by her grandmother’s love and soft wisdom.

She hailed a passing cab, climbed in, and as the driver merged onto the boulevard, Nancy settled into the seat, gazing at the lights dancing along the streets.

The day’s stress receded, replaced by hope—not just for tomorrow’s work, but for a life that balanced duty and delight, a life her grandmother’s words had reminded her she deserved.