Chapter 11
“Because Daniel left his daughter.”
His answer came with quiet certainty.
“Men leave wives,” he continued. “They leave businesses. They leave debts. But Daniel loved Sophia more than his own life.”
“Sophia is your niece.”
“Yes.”
“The girl in the red boots.”
Vincent nodded.
“Where is she now?”
“With Celia’s daughter in Boston.”
“Why?”
“Because after Isabella died, I was not the man she needed.”
The bluntness of the admission surprised me.
“What kind of man were you?”
“One who believed protection meant controlling every variable.”
“And now?”
“I am trying to learn the difference.”
His eyes met mine.
The words felt meant for more than Sophia.
I looked down at the tea.
“Ryan used to say he was protecting me.”
Vincent’s voice softened. “Did you feel safe?”
“No.”
“Then he wasn’t.”
The answer entered me slowly.
Protection was not secrecy.
It was not control.
It was not making someone smaller so they could fit inside another person’s plans.
Real protection left room to breathe.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Vincent said.
He turned to leave.
“Vincent.”
He looked back.
“Thank you for asking before coming in.”
A quiet warmth entered his expression.
“You’re welcome.”
The next morning, Chicago was wrapped in pale winter sunlight.
We left shortly after eight.
This time, there were no black SUVs.
May you like
Vincent drove an ordinary gray sedan. Marco followed several blocks behind in a different car, far enough away that I could almost pretend he was not there.
Lily sat in a child seat Celia had installed before dawn.
