Chapter 1 - The Weight of a Name
"It’s good to see you’re still taking in strays, Lara," Mark sneered over the line, his laughter sharp and metallic through the phone's speaker. "I suppose after failing to keep up with an actual executive, a handyman feels like a safer, smaller bet. Just sign the tax papers. Try not to drag this out like you did the house settlement."
Aara did not defend Julian. She did not explain that Julian hadn't been repairing a fence, but restoring a nineteenth-century trellis in his own private garden because he liked the quiet work of his hands. Mark wouldn't understand a man who built things rather than bought them.
"I will sign them tonight, Mark," Aara said evenly.
May you like
She ended the call before he could manufacture another insult. She set the phone face-down on the granite counter and looked at the single white gardenia floating in the blue bowl. Julian had not brought her a dozen imported roses to prove his wealth; he had brought her one perfect blossom because she had mentioned, in passing, that the scent reminded her of her childhood home.
Mark had spent twelve years making her feel small. In three weeks, Julian had made her feel heard.
