I stood back up, looking from Chloe to the massive banner above us.

“The Morrison Family,” I said, my voice barely audible over the chatter of the crowd. “Daniel, you didn’t tell me.”

He offered a self-deprecating smile and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I wanted to,” Daniel said. “But I wanted you to know me as just Daniel first. Not the name on a building.”

“You’re funding the entire pediatric healing center,” I said, the magnitude of it hitting me.

“My late wife, Sarah, always wanted a place where the kids could feel at home while they healed,” he said softly. “I’m just finishing what she started.”

His honesty made my heart ache in a completely different way.

There was no boasting in his voice, only a deep, enduring love for his family.

“It’s incredible, Daniel,” I said. “The children need this so much.”

Before he could answer, a tall man in a dark grey suit approached us, holding a clipboard.

“Mr. Morrison, the hospital board president is ready for you at the main table,” the man said. “They need you for the opening photographs.”