Nathan looked down at my scarred wrists, his expression softening into deep pain.

“You raised them,” he said.

“I had to,” I said. “The state wanted to separate them. I ran away with them, kept them hidden, and took every job I could find to keep them fed.”

Nathan reached out and took my hands back into his.

“You saved them,” he said. “You are not just a survivor, Emily. You are a hero.”

He squeezed my fingers.

“They will live here with us now,” he said. “In this house. They will never have to hide again.”

For the first time in ten years, the heavy weight on my chest lifted.

I smiled, believing the worst of my life was finally behind me.

Then, the heavy oak door of the study clicked open.

Nathan’s personal assistant, Marcus, stood in the doorway.

He looked pale, holding a silver tray with a single, thick manila envelope on it.

“Excuse me, Mr. Sterling,” Marcus said. “Your mother insisted this be delivered to you immediately.”

Nathan frowned, his grip on my hand tightening.

“My mother is in New York,” Nathan said.

“She had a courier drive it here,” Marcus said. “She said it was your wedding present.”

Marcus placed the envelope on the desk and quickly bowed his head, leaving the room.

The silence returned, heavier this time.

Nathan walked over to the desk and picked up the envelope.

His mother, Eleanor, had made her hatred of me clear from the day she met me.

She called me a gold-digger, a servant who did not belong in their world.

Nathan tore open the seal.

He pulled out a single sheet of aged, official paper.

“What is it?” I asked, walking over to him.

Nathan did not answer.

His face lost all its color.

His fingers began to tremble, creasing the edges of the paper.