Chapter 17
Five years after the fundraiser, we held another animal-rescue dinner in the conservatory.
Different dog.
Young rescue shepherd named Milo.
Terrible manners.
Excellent heart.
He knocked over a water bowl within six minutes.
Elena laughed.
I watched the water spread across the floor and thought of Bruno.
Vanessa jerking his leash.
Elena’s frightened eyes.
The upstairs room.
The wedding band.
For years, I had assumed the betrayal was simple.
My fiancée was secretly married.
It wasn’t.
Behind that fact stood Thomas Crane’s wounded pride.
My father’s hidden support.
Catherine’s unfinished investigation.
Malcolm’s inherited grievance.
Vanessa’s fear of losing me.
And a dog old enough to remember the wrong man entering my house twice in one lifetime.
The rescue director asked if Milo could stay beside me during dinner.
I looked at the dog.
He had already stolen bread.
“Fine.”
Elena smiled.
“Soft.”
“Strategic.”
“Of course.”
Milo settled under the table.
No growl.
No warning.
Just sleep.
I preferred that.
Families romanticize instincts after danger passes.
But safety should be boring.
No secret husbands upstairs.
No copied keys.
No old alliances disguised as love.
No staff afraid to speak.
Just a loud dinner, an unruly dog, and people whose names matched the lives they were actually living.
Elena touched my hand.
“Where did you go?”
“Nowhere.”
She looked beneath the table.
“To Bruno?”
Maybe.
I smiled.
“A little.”
Milo snored.
Around us, the conservatory stayed bright.
No one upstairs.
No one hiding.
May you like
No reason for the dog to bite anyone.
That was enough.
