Again and again.
He had refused.
Their marriage had already become a battleground of security details, whispered warnings, late-night disappearances, locked rooms, and decisions Dominic insisted were necessary but never explained.
Grace had wanted a husband.
Dominic had behaved like a man defending territory.
When she questioned him, he heard disloyalty.
When she pleaded with him to leave parts of his dangerous world outside their home, he heard judgment.
And when she finally said she could not keep living that way, he had given her the coldest answer of their marriage.
Then go.
He remembered it now with unbearable clarity.
Grace had stood in their bedroom with tears in her eyes.
He had not crossed the room.
He had not stopped her.
He had believed that if she loved him enough, she would stay despite the command.
She had believed that if he loved her enough, he would finally ask why she was leaving.
Neither happened.
Dominic touched the sealed envelope.
“May I?”
Grace’s expression shifted faintly at the question.
Seven years earlier, he would have opened it without asking.
“Yes.”
He slid one finger beneath the flap.
The paper inside had been folded twice.
Grace turned toward the window while he read.
The letter was not long.
She had written that she was pregnant.
She had written that she had discovered it after leaving the house and before the divorce was finalized.
She had written that she did not know what to do.
And she had written the sentence that forced Dominic to stop reading.
I know you will think I am using the baby to come back, and I cannot survive being looked at like that by you again.
His eyes remained on the line.
Grace spoke without turning around.
“I was going to send it.”
“What changed?”
“You did.”
He looked up.
“At the courthouse, I tried one more time.”
Dominic remembered the navy dress.
He remembered Grace approaching him before the hearing.
He remembered his lawyer beside him.
He remembered her saying, ‘Dominic, I need five minutes.’
And he remembered answering, ‘Anything you need to say can go through counsel.’
His stomach tightened.
Grace faced him again.
“I had that letter in my purse.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
For a man accustomed to calculating consequences before anyone else in the room saw them coming, he had missed the consequence that mattered most.
“I didn’t know,” he said.
“No.
You made sure you wouldn’t.”
Upstairs, Noah called, “Mom?”
Grace immediately softened.
“I’m here, honey.”
“Can I come down?”
She glanced at Dominic.
He placed the documents back inside the folder.
