The project swallowed us whole.
Every morning started in the main house library—blueprints spread across the massive oak table, fabric swatches pinned to corkboards, mood boards leaning against bookshelves like colorful accusations. I threw myself into the designs with everything I had. Markus deserved a legacy that felt warm, not cold and corporate. I modernized where it made sense—open-plan kitchen flowing into a sunlit family room, soft grays and warm woods replacing the heavy dark paneling, floor-to-ceiling windows to let light flood spaces that had always felt sealed shut. But I kept the heart of it: his study untouched except for fresh paint and new lighting, the framed painting he’d hung of mine still on the wall. A quiet corner garden replanted with his favorite roses. Small touch
