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I walk and walk and walk until I find myself in the only place I know I’ll be safe. When I arrive at the house on Brixton Hill, light beams out from the stained glass window at the top floor, and the doubt that had started to slow my steps as I got closer to him is gone. That’s my sign. He’s home. I don’t know if he wants to see me.

I have no right to ask anything of him. No right to him at all.

I’m afraid if I ask to come in, he’ll say no. I use the key he gave me to let myself in but go no further than the foyer. I hear him coming and hold my breath.

CHAPTER 31

HOME

Omar

The alarm beepsto indicate that the front door has been opened. “Jules?” I run down the stairs and find her standing there, staring up at me—soaked to the bone and shivering and so beautiful that I lose my breath.

“Where have you been?”

“Walking.” She shudders. “I’m so cold. Can I come home, please?” Her voice trembles, and each word is punctuated by a sharp inhale.

“Beat, come here.” I grab her and tug her into my arms. She wraps her sodden body around me like a vise, so tight it hurts my ribcage, and lets out a wail so keening and cacophonous that I know it’s been building for a long, long time.

“I’m so sorry, Omar. For everything. I love you. I understand if you can’t forgive me, but please know that what I feel for you is real. I painted myself into a corner. But I’ve done what’s right. I’m so, so sorry.” She goes on apologizing for perceived wrongs and grievances, and I don’t interrupt until she’s said it all.

Only when her tears and her words run dry do I speak. “I know you’re sorry. I forgive you.I’msorry I left like that. And this is your home. I am your home. Everything is going to be okay. I promise.”

CHAPTER 32

HOPE

Jules

“Youknowher?”I ask after Omar shows me the bank records, the email, the evidence that my father threatened a very rich and powerful person in the days before his death. Evidence that never saw the light of day at my trial.

I waited until I’d changed and dried off before I let myself sit down and look through it all. I climbed into the shower and cried with relief that Omar’s arms were still open to me and that he hadn’t just forgiven me, he was trying to help me.

This is the first piece of new evidence I’ve come across in nearly fifteen years. I can’t believe Omar has a connection to these people.

“I know her son.”

“Do you like him?”

“He’s someone I admire tremendously. He comes from a family that owns one of the largest manufacturers of fragrances—their scents are used in everything from high-end perfume to air fresheners and cleaning products. I invested in a project withher son, Noah, in 2019. Silent investor, but yes. He lives in Las Vegas, but the company’s headquarters are in Houston.”

“Where you were living?”

“Yes, where I have a home. His parents live in my neighborhood—but in the towers. She’s notoriously reclusive.”

“Who runs the company?”

“His father does. But Noah has a commercial development business, and that’s who I invested with. The project I invested in—a stadium—was complete before I left, and my investment is being returned with the interest on the schedule we agreed upon.”

“Do you have any pictures of her? Maybe I’ve seen her before around the shop or something.”

“No, there are hundreds of photographs of her husband, Noah, his sister and youngest brother, but she’s never photographed with them, at least not in public.”

“Is she British?”

“Not as far as I can tell. The company biography says she’s a Houston native.”

“So, what, my father was blackmailing her? For what?”