the private hospit

Alistair Finch, an old Astor family

e room, apparently

is voice tight with anxiety. "Dr. Peterson said it' s

c of that nature is highly unconventional, Ju

nched. This so

ar age, ideally one who has recently... experienced a significant hormonal shift,

His eyes scanned the wait

ne I' d never seen be

is voice suddenly smo

ed towa

t she, Dr. Finch? She' s the right

know I wasn

ad inte

his grip surpr

. Her life is on the li

bored i

that sculpture... it was falling. She pushed

dn' t saved him from any falling scul

d it. Or chose

voice a low command. "It' s the least

edical procedure, though he didn'

ercion, pur

l upon

me to a

my arm, her to

watching, his focus entire

sting as the

life force, d

r

his

weak,

already talking to Dr. Finch aga

g was invis

a resource to

Julian finally s

f superfici

y, Ellie? You

eck on Ellie' s pregnancy too, make sur

a cruel twis

, a secret grief

o longer existed, a child he had a

me, his expression

, about your

e termination. The truth w

onal assistant burst

s. Cartwright is asking f

an instant, rushing

ment w

remained

d at Dr

audible. "Don' t tell him. About my... p

then understanding

He knew our reput

d. "As you wis

me. A small acknowle

ful for his

pain, would re

e sunset paint the sky in hues of orange

sunset, years ago,

ed his arms arou

rmured against my hair. "You and our future.

oken pr

he sunset felt

ad, the vows shattered,

ays were a blu

family property in the city, away f

his presence a

s devotion to Li

at her bedside, his lavish gifts, his publi

s a fresh stab

nt, a noble man standing b

scorned wife? The woman whos

e had spun was

Julian final

ize. Not to a

dation Gala is tonight.

s brisk, mat

ady. Lay out my tuxedo. Make s

e my wifely duties, as

' t ripped my

s recovering well and w

lied I shoul

assistant, that Liv would be

weak, and Mr. Vance wants her cl

eaning heavily on Julian' s arm, she

mind. Julian insisted. He

leamed wit

every moment of my disc

ian fussed over

nket? Was the temp

l, his fingers linge

intimate gestures he

uck a stray strand o

d my hand, his th

ion, all that care,

silent witness to

cold, hard kn