for believing the wrong people?
How did he hold the woman he loved without making his guilt another burden she had to carry?
At the hotel, I booked a quiet suite under my assistant’s emergency account, not my family office. Emma noticed but didn’t ask.
The suite overlooked the city. Dallas glittered beneath us, highways curling like ribbons of light. Emma stood near the window for a long time, still wearing the plain dress and cardigan she had worn while washing dishes.
“I can call a doctor for your hands,” I said.
“They’ll heal.”
“I’d still like someone to look at them.”
She turned from the window. “Daniel, I’m not fragile.”
“I know.”
“No,” she said gently. “You don’t. Not yet.”
The words stung because they were true.
She sat on the sofa, and I sat across from her, giving her space.
“I need to understand,” I said. “Not just
