“Let’s just say,” she replied, “he wasn’t in the best mood.”
Maya stared at her.
“He deployed quite a number of resources trying to find us,” Dahlia went on casually. “Even after his father told him he was wasting his time.” She took a slow sip of her coffee. “After years of marriage, Dominic knows better.”
She glanced toward the trees, serene.
“When I want to be left alone,” Dahlia said calmly, “I will be.”
Maya felt warmth bloom in her chest—an ache somewhere between awe and sudden understanding.
Being away from Damien left a subtle emptiness, a quiet tug she couldn’t ignore—but it was tempered by the rare, necessary space to breathe, to simply exist without weight pressing down.
Then a sudden thought struck her, and her eyes widened.
“Wait,” she said, straightening. “Isn’t Mrs.
