Lily looked up. "If Paul genuinely loves you," Norman continued, "he won't have any problem proving it. Not with words—with something concrete." He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. "A job. Stability. Something he can show the world as proof that he's actually present in your life, actually supporting you." Lily watched him, listening. "There's an entry-level position at Calloway Group. That could be a starting point. Somewhere he can build a real track record." Norman spoke like someone who had thought this through long before the conversation started. "If after that he proves himself and wants to start his own business, we can talk about backing him. One step at a time." He paused for a beat. "And if Paul is truly serious about your future together—this isn't an insult. It's an opportunity. And a way to shut up anyone who might be whispering that he got close to you just to climb the ladder." The room was quiet. Outside the window, the wind moved through the le

At this point, Norman was quiet for a few moments before finally deciding to ask."Lily."His tone shifted slightly. More serious, but not hard. More like someone who wants to make sure something important gets across the right way."I want to ask you something. And I need you to be honest with me."Lily turned."Your relationship with Paul—how far has it gone?"Lily blinked. "What do you mean, Norman?""I'm worried." Norman looked at her directly, no wasted words. "There are certain men who use love as a tool. Not to give—to take. And one of the most common ways they do it is by pushing past boundaries before someone is ready."He paused for a beat."I just want to know you're safe. That no one is pushing you toward something you're not prepared for."Lily opened her mouth.Maybe to answer quickly, maybe to defend Paul—but Norman continued before she had the chance."Hear me out first."Lily closed her mouth.Norman drew a slow breath, then began."A while back, there were a few case

Lily didn't make a sound right away. Her fingers, which had been fidgeting with the CD in her lap, went still. Her eyes weren't focused on anything in particular—just staring ahead with the expression of someone still processing what they had just heard, and not quite finished doing it. Then her body gave a small shudder. That poor girl's life was truly horrific. Not a thought she said out loud, but Lily felt it in her bones. An empathy that came from imagining someone beautiful, composed, with every possibility ahead of her and a bright future—ending up like that. "Norman..." Her voice came out quieter than she intended. "That girl... wasn't there anyone who could have saved her?" "No one found out fast enough." Norman answered. "That's the whole point." Lily looked down. Norman let that silence work for a moment. Then he continued. Still in the same tone—not lecturing, not judging—more like someone setting something down on the table and letting the other person d

Then the sound of footsteps on the stairs.Everyone turned.Paul Shaw came down in a dark blue suit cut perfectly—one of Norman's older pieces from his collection.Premium wool that draped flawlessly, gold cufflinks, a slim tie that one of the staff had already straightened for him.The outfit was worth two hundred thousand dollars.And on Paul Shaw's body, rather than looking distinguished, he looked like a circus monkey crammed into an officer's uniform.Paul felt it himself.Behind the expression he had worked hard to assemble, there was a discomfort that couldn't be fully hidden.You could see it in the way he occasionally tugged at his collar as if it was too tight, the way his arms didn't quite hang naturally at his sides, the way he stood just slightly too straight with an effort that was far too visible.He was used to owning a room in a completely different way.A worn leather jacket and a look that made people step aside before he even said a word. In that world, he could le

The BMW glided out of the Northfield district, its engine quiet under the midday sun that was already getting sharp.Norman drove with one hand on the wheel, his mind already running far ahead—to the courthouse, to the documents waiting, to the one thing that should have been done years ago.Then his phone rang.Mrs. Walker.Norman picked up. "What is it, Mrs. Walker?""Mr. Calloway." The old woman's voice was careful, but there was something behind it Norman recognized. The tone of someone delivering unpleasant news who had already anticipated how it would land. "A short while ago, Mrs. Vivienne called, asking where you were.""Okay.""And..." Mrs. Walker paused for a moment. "Felix Desmond just called again. Asking for money."Norman didn't answer right away.Inside his chest, something lit up. Not the kind of anger that explodes—the cold, clear kind. The kind he knew all too well.This useless piece of shit...Even after knowing his sister was about to be divorced—even after everyt