Preston locked the door, raised a metal golf club toward Giulietta, and mocked that his father had once taught his own wife obedience the same way.
/
Chapter 15 / 17
Chapter 15
Two years passed.
Warren’s influence shrank without anyone attacking him.
That was almost funny.
No revenge.
No war.
No public disgrace.
People simply stopped treating his certainty as leadership.
Preston stepped away from Hale operations for a year.
Then returned in a smaller role.
His choice.
Not heir.
Not bridge.
Not my husband.
Just Preston.
He became better at asking before assuming.
Still imperfect.
Good.
Isolde eventually moved into a small house near Blackthorn.
Not Hale.
Not Marconi.
Hers.
That mattered most.
She kept photographs of Preston everywhere.
New ones.
Not the twenty-three-year-old son she lost.
The man he became after finding her.
Warren never visited.
May you like
She never invited him.
No tragedy required correction by reunion.
