“Was the accident really an accident?”
Vincent’s silence was long enough to tell her the answer was complicated.
“We can review that when you’re ready,” he said. “Not tonight.”
Lenora nodded. She did not have room for another truth yet.
Downstairs, the gala continued without Darnell, Beverly, or Candace. Donations poured in so fast the foundation staff had to open additional processing terminals. Some guests gave out of guilt. Some out of genuine conviction. Some because donating publicly was easier than apologizing privately.
Lenora did not care which emotion moved the money that night.
Children would sleep somewhere safe because of it.
That was enough.
At two in the morning, she returned to the small apartment where she and Darnell had lived for three years after leaving the townhouse he had insisted was “beneath his future.” The apartment smelled faintly of his cologne and Beverly’s lavender cleaning spray. The living room was immaculate because Lenora had cleaned it that afternoon while Darnell took Candace to lunch and called it a meeting.
