The patio had to be cleaned.
The garden gate needed repair.
And the swimming pool remained unavailable for weeks.
Every morning, Andre walked past the sliding glass doors and looked toward the empty or restricted pool area.
The sight made him feel strangely sad.
He'd worked for years to buy a house where he could swim whenever he wanted.
Now the most beautiful part of the property was a reminder of something dangerous.
Some evenings, he sat outside anyway.
He listened to the birds.
Watched the trees move.
And tried to remember how the backyard felt before Cynthia turned it into a battlefield.
He didn't want to spend the rest of his life associating his home with fear.
But he also understood that rebuilding trust in a place could take longer than repairing the place itself.
Andre's father visited one afternoon while the cleanup was underway.
He found his son sitting beneath the patio umbrella with a cup of coffee.
The older man lowered himself into the chair beside him.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then his father looked toward the pool.
"How much longer?"
Andre shrugged.
"The specialists are finishing the assessment and remaining work."
His father nodded.
"Good."
For a moment, they sat quietly.
Then the older man asked.
"How are you doing?"
Andre looked toward him.
He almost gave the automatic answer.
Fine.
He'd said it dozens of times over the previous weeks.
To his employees.
His sister.
His neighbors.
And even to Natalie.
But sitting beside his father, he didn't feel like pretending.
"I'm tired, Dad."
The older man nodded.
"I figured."
Andre leaned backward.
"I bought this house because I wanted somewhere peaceful. Now I've spent almost a year defending the right to enjoy it."
His father looked toward the trees.
For several seconds, he remained quiet.
Then he said.
"Son, somebody else's bad decisions don't make your decision to buy this house wrong."
Andre lowered his eyes.
His father continued.
"You built something good for yourself. That woman tried to take the joy out of it. Don't finish her work for her."
Andre looked up.
For a moment, he felt tears gathering.
He laughed softly.
"You always know what to say."
His father smiled.
"No. I've just had more years to get things wrong."
They both laughed.
Then the older man reached over and squeezed his son's shoulder.
"When the pool's safe again, I'll be right here."
Andre nodded.
For the first time in weeks, he smiled without forcing it.
The legal proceedings involving Cynthia, Peter Rowland, and the disputed business arrangements continued separately.