Nicholas
The crisp morning air in the west garden smelled of blooming white hydrangeas and fresh lawn grass.
It was right here, on this exact stone terrace beside the stone fountain, three weeks after Faith first arrived at Sutton Manor. It was here that Noah had let out his very first real, bubbling laugh in two years—chasing a yellow butterfly while Faith knelt in the dirt, completely unconcerned with getting her clothes dirty.
That was the exact day my cold, fortified heart had begun to c***k.
I stood near the edge of the fountain, smoothing the front of my charcoal suit jacket. I had orchestrated mergers worth billions and faced down ruthless boardroom raiders without a flicker of hesitation, but my hands were visibly trembling as I adjusted my tie.
"Stop pacing, Mr. Sutton," Mrs.
