The white marble table felt unusually cold beneath Dominic’s palms. The small pediatric hospital bracelet bearing the name Rose Reyes lay between his untouched cup of tea and the cream-colored envelope like a physical piece of evidence from a trial he thought he had won years ago

Five years later, the heavy iron gates of the Ashford estate—perched high on a scenic hill overlooking the glittering expanse of Boston Harbor—swung open smoothly to welcome a bright red bicycle with training wheels.

“Don't go too fast, Lily-Mae!” a small, breathless voice yelled across the rolling green lawn.

A three-year-old toddler with curly dark hair and a bright pink sunhat chased frantically after the bicycle, clutching a brand-new, remarkably clean stuffed rabbit that didn't have any missing ears.

On the wide, shaded veranda overlooking the garden, Dominic Ashford sat in a comfortable wooden rocking chair, a thick financial ledger resting closed on the table beside a glass of iced tea.

He wasn't reading it.

His slate-gray eyes were fixed entirely on the lawn below, where Elena was laughing as she scooped the toddler up into her arms, kissing the little girl’s cheek while Lily—now a tall, confident fourteen-year-old high school student—parked her bicycle against the white picket fence.

From behind him, Victor stepped out onto the veranda, holding a fresh batch of mail.

“Afternoon, Boss,” Victor said, placing a stack of envelopes on the table. “Courier just dropped these off. Standard quarterly reports from the charitable trust.”

Dominic didn't look at the mail. He stood up, stretching his broad shoulders in the warm afternoon sun, and watched as Elena looked up from the garden, catching his eye across the lawn.

She smiled—that same radiant, unshakable smile that had first pierced his armor outside the emergency room years ago—and waved him down to join them.