THE TRANSLATOR'S DILEMMA

Lillian Brooks had always believed that words could save people.

She had also learned that the wrong words could destroy them.

That morning, she was about to discover just how dangerous words could be.

The rain had started before sunrise.

It tapped softly against the windows of Lillian's small apartment, filling the quiet room with a rhythm that would normally have been comforting.

Today, it wasn't.

Lillian stood in front of her mirror, staring at her reflection while trying to decide whether her blouse looked professional enough.

White blouse.

Black trousers.

Simple black heels.

Her dark hair was pulled into a neat bun, with only a few soft strands falling around her face.

She looked professional.

At least, she hoped she did.

She checked the time on her phone.

7:12 a.m.

"Oh no."

She grabbed her handbag.

She was already late.

Not terribly late.

But late enough to make a bad first impression.

And today was not a day when she could afford one.

Lillian had spent the last three months applying for better translation jobs.

Her previous employer had closed the department where she worked, leaving her unemployed at a time when rent was rising, bills were waiting, and her savings were disappearing faster than she wanted to admit.

She had taken small translation jobs online.

She had translated documents.

She had helped students.

She had even spent two nights translating a twenty-page business proposal for a client who paid her three days late.

But none of it was enough.

Then, three days ago, an international translation agency had called.

They had offered her a temporary position.

The client was one of the most powerful businessmen in the country.

Christian Hayes.

Even the name sounded intimidating.

Lillian knew who he was.

Everyone did.

Christian Hayes was the thirty-two-year-old CEO of Hayes International, a multinational company with investments in technology, finance, real estate, and international trade.

He was young.

Extremely wealthy.

Highly private.

And according to every business article Lillian had read about him, almost impossible to work with.

She had also heard another description.

Cold.

That word appeared frequently whenever people talked about him.

Cold.

Unapproachable.

Demanding.

Unforgiving.

Lillian had no intention of becoming friends with him.

She only needed to do her job.

Translate.

Stay professional.

Get paid.

Go home.

Simple.

At least, that was the plan.

She rushed out of her apartment and locked the door behind her.

As she ran down the stairs, her phone rang.

It was her best friend, Mia.

Lillian answered while trying not to slip on the wet staircase.

"Hello?"

"Are you awake?"

Lillian stopped.

"Mia, it's seven in the morning."

"Exactly. You're supposed to be on your way to meet your billionaire boss."

"He's not my boss."

"Yet."

"Mia."

"What?"

"Please don't start."

Mia laughed.

"I just want to know what he looks like."

"You've seen his pictures online."

"Pictures don't count."

"Why?"

"Because handsome men look different in person."

Lillian opened the building door and stepped into the rain.

"He's not my type."

"You don't even know your type."

"I do."

"Really? What's your type?"

"Someone normal."

Mia laughed so loudly that Lillian had to pull the phone away from her ear.

"Christian Hayes is definitely not normal."

"I didn't say he was."

"Then what's wrong with him?"

"Nothing."

"Exactly."

Lillian rolled her eyes.

"I have to go."

"Wait."

"What?"

"Don't fall in love."

Lillian laughed.

"With my employer?"

"Stranger things have happened."

"I'm going to work, Mia."

"I know."

"I'm there to translate."

"I know."

"I'm not interested in him."

"I know."

Lillian frowned.

"You sound suspicious."

"I'm not suspicious. I'm experienced."

"You've never even met him."

"I've met men like him."

"That's even worse."

Mia laughed again.

"Good luck."

"Thank you."

"And Lillian?"

"Yes?"

"Don't let anyone make you feel small because you need the job."

Lillian's smile faded slightly.

That was the kind of thing Mia said when she knew Lillian was nervous.

"I'm fine."

"I know. Just remember who you are."

Lillian smiled.

"I will."

They ended the call.

She slipped her phone into her handbag and raised her hand to stop a taxi.

Five minutes later, she was sitting in the back seat, watching the city disappear behind sheets of rain.

She took out the folder containing her documents.

Her fingers moved over the pages.

Her assignment was simple.

Christian Hayes had an important international meeting that morning.

Several foreign investors were coming into the country.

The meeting would involve English, French, and Spanish.

Lillian spoke all three fluently.

Her job was to make sure nothing was misunderstood.

She looked out the window.

"I can do this."

She said it quietly.

"I can."

She had no idea that those words would be tested before the day was over.

---

Hayes International stood in the heart of the city.

The building was enormous.

Forty-five floors of glass, steel, and polished stone.

It looked less like a company headquarters and more like a declaration of power.

The moment Lillian stepped through the revolving doors, she felt small.

Very small.

The lobby was filled with people wearing expensive suits and walking with the kind of confidence that came from knowing exactly where they belonged.

Lillian tightened her grip on her handbag.

A receptionist looked up.

"Good morning."

"Good morning. I'm Lillian Brooks. I'm here for the translation assignment."

The receptionist typed something into her computer.

"Mr. Hayes is expecting you."

Lillian blinked.

"He is?"

"Yes."

The receptionist handed her a visitor's badge.

"Forty-second floor."

"Thank you."

Lillian turned toward the elevators.

Her heels clicked against the marble floor.

With every step, her heartbeat became louder.

The elevator arrived.

She stepped inside.

The doors closed.

For a few seconds, she was alone.

She looked at herself in the mirrored wall.

"You can do this."

The elevator began moving upward.

She watched the numbers change.

Thirty-five.

Thirty-six.

Thirty-seven.

Her stomach tightened.

Forty.

Forty-one.

Forty-two.

Ding.

The doors opened.

Lillian stepped out.

The atmosphere changed immediately.

The forty-second floor was quieter than the lobby.

There were fewer employees.

The walls were decorated with abstract paintings.

The carpet was dark gray.

At the far end stood a large glass door.

A woman sitting behind a desk looked up.

"Ms. Brooks?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Hayes is waiting for you."

Lillian swallowed.

"Thank you."

The woman stood.

"Follow me."

They walked toward the office.

Lillian noticed that the woman didn't knock.

She simply opened the door.

"Mr. Hayes, Ms. Brooks is here."

A deep voice answered.

"Send her in."

The woman stepped aside.

Lillian entered.

The door closed behind her.

And for the first time, she saw Christian Hayes.

She understood immediately why people described him as intimidating.

He wasn't doing anything.

He was simply sitting behind his desk.

Yet the entire room seemed to belong to him.

He wore a dark navy suit with a white shirt.

His sleeves were buttoned neatly at his wrists.

His dark hair was slightly longer than most businessmen would normally keep it.

His face was calm.

Sharp.

Beautiful in a way that Lillian didn't want to admit.

He looked up from the documents on his desk.

Their eyes met.

Lillian forgot the sentence she had prepared.

Christian studied her for a moment.

Not rudely.

Not openly.

Just carefully.

Then he said,

"You're late."

Lillian glanced at the clock.

7:59.

She looked back at him.

"My appointment was at eight."

"It's eight."

She blinked.

"Exactly."

He leaned back.

"You arrived at eight."

"Yes."

"Most people arrive ten minutes early."

"Most people don't have to fight Lagos traffic in the rain."

Silence.

Lillian immediately regretted the words.

Christian's eyebrows lifted.

She cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry."

"Are you?"

"Yes."

"You don't sound sorry."

Lillian pressed her lips together.

She wasn't sure whether he was testing her.

Probably.

"I apologize for arriving at exactly eight instead of earlier."

He looked at her for another moment.

Then he said,

"Sit."

Lillian sat in the chair opposite him.

Christian pushed a folder across the desk.

"Your agency says you're fluent in French and Spanish."

"Yes."

"How fluent?"

"Fluent enough to work professionally."

"That's not an answer."

Lillian frowned.

"What would you like me to say?"

"I'd like you to tell me whether you can translate a conversation without making mistakes."

"I can."

"Everyone says that."

"Then why did you hire me?"

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Lillian realized she had challenged him again.

But instead of becoming angry, Christian leaned back.

"Interesting."

"What?"

"You don't seem nervous."

"I am."

"You don't look it."

"That's because I'm trying not to."

For the first time, she noticed something unusual in his expression.

Amusement.

It disappeared almost immediately.

He opened another document.

"We have a meeting in thirty minutes."

"I know."

"You'll sit beside me."

"Of course."

"You'll translate everything."

"Yes."

"If someone says something offensive, you translate it."

"Of course."

"If someone insults me?"

"I'll translate it."

"If you think translating it will create a problem?"

"I still translate it."

He looked at her.

"Why?"

"Because I'm a translator, not a diplomat."

Silence.

Then Christian smiled.

It was small.

Barely noticeable.

But it was there.

Lillian stared before quickly looking down at her folder.

He smiled.

The cold businessman actually smiled.

Christian noticed.

"You look surprised."

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to."

Lillian looked at him.

"Do you always analyze people this much?"

"Only when they're interesting."

Her heart skipped.

She hated that it did.

"I'm not interesting."

"I'll decide that."

She looked away.

"This job is going to be difficult."

Christian's lips curved again.

"You have no idea."

---

The conference room was already full when they arrived.

Representatives from France, Spain, and Italy were seated around a long polished table.

Lillian took her position beside Christian.

She adjusted her earpiece.

Her nervousness disappeared.

This was what she knew.

Languages were safe.

Languages made sense.

People were complicated.

Words were easier.

The meeting began.

A French investor spoke first.

Lillian translated smoothly.

Then another executive responded in English.

She translated into French.

Then Spanish.

Within minutes, the room became a rhythm of voices.

Lillian moved effortlessly between languages.

Christian watched her quietly.

She didn't notice.

Or perhaps she did and chose to ignore it.

For almost an hour, everything went perfectly.

Then one of the investors became angry.

He spoke quickly in French.

Lillian listened carefully.

His words were sharp.

"You have wasted our time," he said.

She translated.

Christian remained calm.

The investor continued.

"You promised exclusivity, but your company is negotiating with another group."

Lillian translated every word.

Christian's jaw tightened.

"I think you should check your information."

The investor slammed his hand against the table.

"I have proof."

Lillian translated.

The room fell silent.

Christian leaned forward.

"What proof?"

The man placed a document on the table.

Christian reached for it.

He read the first page.

Something changed in his face.

Lillian watched him.

For the first time, she saw uncertainty.

Not fear.

Not anger.

Something deeper.

Christian closed the folder.

"We'll continue this discussion later."

The investor shook his head.

"No."

Christian looked up.

"Excuse me?"

"You think because you have money, everyone must obey you."

Lillian translated carefully.

Christian's expression hardened.

The man stood.

"You are making a mistake."

Christian replied in French.

Lillian translated his words automatically.

"Mr. Hayes says-"

She stopped.

Christian looked at her.

"What?"

She hesitated.

He had said something she wasn't sure she should translate.

"What did he say?"

The investor demanded.

Lillian looked at Christian.

His eyes were warning her.

Translate.

She did.

"He said he doesn't make mistakes."

The investor laughed bitterly.

"You just made one."

The room went silent.

Christian stood.

The meeting ended ten minutes later.

Everyone left.

Lillian remained behind to gather her documents.

Christian stood near the window.

He was looking at the city.

"Ms. Brooks."

"Yes?"

"You translated everything correctly."

"Thank you."

"But you hesitated."

Lillian stopped.

"I wasn't sure whether you wanted me to translate the final sentence."

"I told you to translate everything."

"I know."

"Then why hesitate?"

"Because sometimes words can cause more damage than silence."

Christian turned toward her.

"That's your job."

"Perhaps."

He walked toward her.

"And what would you have done?"

She looked up at him.

"If it were my decision?"

"Yes."

"I would have told the truth."

Christian stared at her.

"Even if it hurt someone?"

"Especially then."

He was silent.

Then he said,

"You're hired."

Lillian blinked.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"I thought I was only here for today's meeting."

"You were."

"And now?"

"I want you to work for me."

She stared.

"For how long?"

"I haven't decided."

"Mr. Hayes-"

"Christian."

She paused.

"What?"

"Call me Christian."

She looked at him suspiciously.

"Why?"

"Because I'm asking you to."

Lillian looked away.

"This is sudden."

"I make decisions quickly."

"That's obvious."

His lips twitched.

"You really do say whatever you're thinking."

"Usually."

"That's dangerous."

"So I've been told."

He walked past her.

Then stopped.

"Tomorrow."

She turned.

"Tomorrow what?"

"Be here at eight."

"Why?"

"Because I have another meeting."

"You already have translators."

"I don't want them."

"Why?"

He looked over his shoulder.

"Because you're good."

For some reason, those two words meant more to Lillian than they should have.

She smiled.

"Thank you."

Christian nodded.

"Good night, Lillian."

She froze.

He had used her first name.

It shouldn't have mattered.

But it did.

She watched him walk away.

Then she whispered,

"This is going to be complicated."

---

That evening, Lillian sat on her bed with Mia beside her.

Mia was eating popcorn.

Lillian was staring at the ceiling.

"So?"

Mia asked.

"So what?"

"Tell me everything."

"There is nothing to tell."

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"You've been staring at the ceiling for ten minutes."

Lillian sighed.

"My boss is strange."

"Handsome?"

"That's irrelevant."

"That's a yes."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't need to."

Mia smiled.

"What happened?"

Lillian told her about the meeting.

She told her about the investor.

She told her about Christian hiring her.

Mia listened carefully.

When Lillian finished, Mia leaned back.

"He's interested in you."

Lillian nearly choked.

"What?"

"He likes you."

"You've lost your mind."

"I'm serious."

"He barely knows me."

"Exactly."

"What does that mean?"

"It means he doesn't usually pay attention to people."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've read about him."

"You're ridiculous."

Mia shrugged.

"So are you."

Lillian threw a pillow at her.

Mia laughed.

Then she became serious.

"Just be careful."

Lillian looked at her.

"Why?"

"Because powerful men don't always play fair."

Lillian nodded.

"I know."

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"You have a habit of trying to see the good in everyone."

Lillian smiled softly.

"Maybe that's not a bad thing."

"No."

Mia's expression softened.

"But don't let someone else's darkness make you forget your own light."

Lillian smiled.

"I won't."

She didn't know that Christian Hayes had his own version of darkness.

And she didn't know that, very soon, she would become the person standing closest to it.

---

The next morning, Lillian arrived at Hayes International at 7:45.

She was early.

Very early.

She didn't want Christian accusing her of being late again.

The receptionist smiled when she saw her.

"Good morning, Ms. Brooks."

"Good morning."

"Mr. Hayes is upstairs."

"Already?"

"He's usually the first person in the building."

Lillian nodded.

Of course he was.

She entered the elevator.

When she reached the forty-second floor, she found the office unusually quiet.

Christian's assistant wasn't there.

The door to his office was slightly open.

Lillian knocked.

No answer.

She knocked again.

Still nothing.

She pushed the door open.

"Christian?"

No answer.

She stepped inside.

He wasn't behind his desk.

Then she heard a sound from the other side of the room.

A quiet cough.

Lillian turned.

Christian was standing near the window.

His tie was missing.

His shirt sleeves were rolled up.

And for the first time, he didn't look like the powerful CEO from yesterday.

He looked tired.

Very tired.

His face was pale.

He pressed one hand against the window.

Lillian frowned.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"I'm fine."

"You said that twice."

He looked at her.

"And?"

"People usually repeat something when they're trying to convince someone."

A faint smile appeared.

"You analyze too much."

"You hired me because I'm observant."

"I hired you because you speak languages."

"That too."

He coughed again.

Lillian stepped closer.

"You should go home."

"I have work."

"You can work tomorrow."

"I don't need advice."

"Clearly."

His eyes narrowed.

She realized she had pushed too far.

But then he laughed.

A quiet, unexpected laugh.

Lillian stared.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You laughed."

"I know."

"I didn't think you knew how."

He shook his head.

"You are becoming a problem."

"I haven't even started."

Christian walked toward his desk.

Then he suddenly stopped.

His hand reached for the edge of the table.

Lillian moved instinctively.

"Christian?"

"I'm fine."

This time, his voice sounded weaker.

Lillian reached for his arm.

He looked down at her hand.

She immediately pulled it away.

"Sorry."

He stared at her.

Then his expression softened.

"Don't be."

Something passed between them.

Something neither of them understood.

For several seconds, they simply stood there.

Too close.

Lillian could hear his breathing.

Christian could see the small nervous movement of her fingers.

He looked at her lips.

Then quickly looked away.

"You should sit."

"I'm okay."

"I wasn't talking about myself."

She blinked.

"What?"

"You look nervous."

"I am."

"Why?"

"Because you're acting strange."

He smiled.

"Maybe you're finally seeing the real me."

Lillian frowned.

"I don't know what that means."

"You will."

---

Their working relationship changed quickly.

Within two weeks, Lillian became part of Christian's daily routine.

She translated meetings.

She accompanied him to business lunches.

She helped prepare international contracts.

She traveled with him to conferences.

And somewhere between translating financial documents and arguing about coffee, they became comfortable around each other.

Too comfortable.

Christian discovered that Lillian hated mornings.

Lillian discovered that Christian drank his coffee without sugar.

Christian discovered that Lillian sang quietly when she was concentrating.

Lillian discovered that Christian secretly loved old romantic movies.

She found that last discovery completely unbelievable.

"You?"

They were sitting in the company lounge after a long meeting.

Christian looked at her.

"What?"

"You watch romantic movies?"

"Sometimes."

"Which ones?"

"Why?"

"I want to know."

He shrugged.

"Casablanca."

Lillian stared.

"You really are strange."

"You asked."

"What's your favorite?"

He looked at her.

"The ones with happy endings."

Something about his answer made her chest tighten.

"Why?"

"Because real life doesn't always have them."

She didn't know what to say.

For once, there were no words.

---

Three weeks after Lillian started working for Christian, they traveled to Paris for a major business conference.

The flight was long.

Lillian sat beside the window.

Christian sat beside her.

For the first two hours, neither spoke.

Then Christian said,

"You're quiet."

"I'm reading."

"You've been reading the same page for twenty minutes."

She looked at him.

"I was thinking."

"About?"

"You."

He raised an eyebrow.

"That's dangerous."

"Not in the way you're thinking."

"How am I thinking?"

"I don't know."

"Then how do you know it's not the way I'm thinking?"

Lillian rolled her eyes.

"You enjoy making things difficult."

"Only with you."

She looked out the window.

"Why?"

Christian didn't answer immediately.

When he finally spoke, his voice was softer.

"Because you don't run away."

Lillian turned.

"What?"

"Most people do."

"From you?"

"From me."

She studied his face.

"Why?"

He looked away.

"Because they don't like what they see."

"And what do they see?"

"A man who doesn't trust easily."

Lillian was quiet.

"Maybe you shouldn't trust everyone."

"I don't."

"Then why do you trust me?"

Christian looked at her.

"I don't know yet."

Her heart beat faster.

"Then why did you hire me?"

"Because something about you made me curious."

"Curious?"

"Yes."

"About what?"

He smiled.

"I haven't figured that out yet."

---

Paris changed something between them.

Maybe it was the city.

Maybe it was the cold evening air.

Maybe it was the way Christian looked at Lillian when he thought she wasn't watching.

They worked during the day.

At night, they walked.

They ate dinner in small restaurants.

They laughed.

Actually laughed.

Christian became less like the CEO people feared and more like the man nobody else knew.

One evening, they stood near the Seine.

The city lights reflected on the water.

Lillian hugged her coat around herself.

"It's beautiful."

Christian looked at her instead of the river.

"Yes."

She turned.

He was staring at her.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You keep doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're trying to figure me out."

He smiled.

"Maybe I am."

She looked away.

"Have you figured me out?"

"Not yet."

"Good."

"Why?"

"Because I'm complicated."

"So am I."

"You're definitely complicated."

He laughed.

She smiled.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Christian reached toward her.

Lillian's heart stopped.

He gently removed a small strand of hair that had fallen across her face.

His fingers brushed her cheek.

The world seemed to become silent.

Neither moved.

His eyes lowered to her lips.

Lillian's breath caught.

He leaned closer.

Then stopped.

He pulled back.

"Good night, Lillian."

She stared at him.

"Good night."

He walked away.

Lillian stood there, touching the place where his fingers had been.

She whispered,

"This is a terrible idea."

But she was smiling.

---

The next morning, everything changed.

Lillian entered the hotel lobby and immediately noticed Christian speaking to a woman.

The woman was beautiful.

Elegant.

Confident.

She touched Christian's arm while laughing.

Lillian stopped.

Something unpleasant twisted in her stomach.

She didn't understand why.

She shouldn't care.

Christian wasn't her boyfriend.

He wasn't even her friend.

He was her employer.

So why did seeing another woman beside him hurt?

Christian looked up.

His eyes met hers.

The smile disappeared from his face.

He said something to the woman.

Then walked toward Lillian.

"Good morning."

"Morning."

His eyes narrowed.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You look angry."

"I'm not."

"You're lying."

She walked past him.

"I'm going to the conference room."

He followed.

"Lillian."

She stopped.

"What?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Then look at me."

She refused.

He stepped in front of her.

"Lillian."

She finally looked at him.

His expression softened.

"You don't have to pretend with me."

She swallowed.

"I saw you with someone."

"The woman downstairs?"

"Yes."

"Her name is Isabelle."

"I didn't ask."

"She's an old family friend."

"Okay."

"That's all."

"I said okay."

Christian studied her face.

Then he smiled.

"You were jealous."

Her eyes widened.

"I was not."

"You were."

"I wasn't."

"You were."

She turned away.

He laughed.

"Don't."

"Why?"

"Because you're annoying."

"You were jealous."

She looked at him.

"Maybe I was."

The smile disappeared from his face.

He stepped closer.

"Why?"

She couldn't answer.

Because she didn't know.

Or perhaps she knew and was afraid to say it.

Christian lowered his voice.

"Lillian."

She looked up.

"Yes?"

"Do you know what you're doing to me?"

Her heart stopped.

"What?"

He shook his head.

"Nothing."

Then he walked away.

Lillian remained standing in the hallway.

Confused.

Terrified.

And secretly happy.

---

But happiness rarely arrives without a price.

Three days later, Lillian received an email.

The sender was unknown.

There was only one attachment.

A photograph.

She opened it.

Her breath caught.

It was Christian.

Standing beside a woman.

The same woman she had seen in the hotel.

But this time, the photograph was different.

Christian was holding the woman's hand.

The message beneath the photograph was short.

Ask him who she really is.

Lillian stared at the screen.

Her heart began to race.

She opened the photograph again.

Something wasn't right.

The image looked old.

Very old.

Christian looked younger.

Much younger.

And the woman...

Lillian zoomed in.

Her face suddenly went pale.

She knew that woman.

Not personally.

But from somewhere.

She had seen her before.

In an old newspaper article.

A photograph from years ago.

An article about Christian's family.

Lillian's fingers trembled.

She searched the internet.

Her heart pounded as the article loaded.

The headline appeared.

HAYES FAMILY HEIR LOSES FIANCÉE IN MYSTERIOUS ACCIDENT

Lillian stopped breathing.

Fiancée.

She read the article.

Christian Hayes had been engaged years ago.

The woman in the photograph was named Isabelle Laurent.

According to the article, she had disappeared after a car accident.

Her body had never been found.

Lillian stared at the photograph again.

Then at the date.

Seven years ago.

But the woman she had seen in Paris looked exactly the same.

Her phone rang.

Lillian jumped.

Christian.

She stared at his name.

She didn't answer.

The phone stopped.

A few seconds later, it rang again.

She answered.

"Hello?"

"Lillian."

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

"Where are you?"

"At the hotel."

"Come to my room."

Her heart began racing.

"Why?"

"I need to talk to you."

"About what?"

There was a pause.

Then Christian said,

"The photograph."

Lillian froze.

"You know?"

"I know."

"How?"

"Because I sent it."

Her blood went cold.

"What?"

"The photograph you received."

Christian's voice became quieter.

"I sent it to you."

Lillian stood.

"Why?"

"Because you deserve to know the truth."

"What truth?"

Another silence.

Then he said something that made her world stop.

"Isabelle Laurent is alive."

Lillian couldn't speak.

"And she is coming back for me."

The call ended.

Lillian stared at the phone.

Her hands were shaking.

Then someone knocked on her hotel door.

Once.

Twice.

She slowly approached it.

"Who is it?"

No answer.

She looked through the peephole.

Her blood ran cold.

The woman from the photograph was standing outside.

Isabelle.

Alive.

And smiling.

Then she raised her hand and knocked again.

"Lillian Brooks?"

Lillian couldn't move.

The woman's voice came through the door.

"I know you're in there."

She smiled.

"I need to talk to you about Christian."

Lillian stepped backward.

Her heart was pounding.

And for the first time since meeting Christian Hayes, she wished she had never learned how to translate the truth.