(Nathaniel)
I was good at knowing things. Markets, men, the exact moment across a table when the other side would break. I'd built the company on it. My brother Jonathan called it cold. I called it clear. A man who sees plainly doesn't need to be warm about it.
So it unsettled me that I could no longer read my own house.
It began with Emilia. Having her back should've felt like a door I'd waited years to see open. She was the woman I'd signed my name for, the reason I'd agreed to bind two families together. I'd gone to the airport myself to bring her home, and for a few days it had felt like an old wrong finally set right.
And yet.
I couldn't name what was off. Nothing I could put in a column. She looked as she should. She laughed as I remembered, filled a room as I remembered, reache
