filled with the sound of a cheerful children's song. Damian sa

irst time all day, a genuine, relaxed smile touched her lips as she watched

e pointed a small finger out the wi

photograph of Armond Solomon. It was an ad for Solomon Group's new green energy initiative. He looked older, more formida

mach cl

over and abruptly switched off the kids' music, fumbling with

s a m

"...and with this move, Solomon Group CEO Armond Solomon has once again

e car evaporated, replaced by

red at the billboard, then turned his gaze

tion. It was a s

. How could she explain the tangled, ugly truth to a fou

the words caught in her throat. She

. There was no curiosity, no longing. Just

oice clear and firm, "I don't need him. I

lap, turning it over and over in his hands, as if the topic were no

ance of shock, pride, and a deep, aching sadness for t

ction, a black Maybach idled, its tin

bridge of his nose as he listened to his assistant drone on thro

anning the river of traffic. It snagged on a

the passenger seat. Her profile, partially hidden by a baseball cap. The way she

... fa

urch. A name he hadn't allowed himself to t

he

surd. Impossible. She was gone, vanished. And s

om of stress, a ghost conj

SUV pulled ahead, merging into

mself turning his head, his eyes searching for

y lingered, a tiny splinter unde

enly, his voice sharp, surprising even himself

e odd request, glanced in

t do

ark carousel, the cheerful sounds of music and childre

etermined to salvage the day. She would not let t

t of her own had just set a