Chapter 29

Thomas sat on the edge of the bed, scarcely daring to breathe, his eyes fixed on the gentle rise and fall of his wife’s chest. The moonlight seeping through the curtains cast pale patterns across the rumpled sheets, illuminating her peaceful face. Earlier that afternoon, he had watched her weep—real tears, wracking her slender frame—while she poured out a truth she’d carried alone for so many years. He had never seen her like that before, so raw with pain and wounded tenderness, and it stirred a fierce protectiveness in him. He would lavish her with every kindness, treat her like royalty, and condemn without mercy the very people she still dared to call family. Honey had finally resigned from her position, and Thomas felt a secret relief: now he could insist she keep as much distance as possible from those who had hurt her so carelessly.

A soft sigh escaped him, and he unconsciously recalled their conversation in his office this afternoon—right after he’d introduced her to the