Their laughter with him did not betray me.
That lesson was harder than any command training.
One evening, after a supervised family dinner at Margaret’s estate, I found Daniel alone in the library.
He stood before the fireplace, looking at a framed photograph on the mantel.
It was not one of the children.
It was a photo of me from ten years earlier, taken during my first visit to the estate. I wore a cream sweater and nervous smile, one hand tucked into Daniel’s arm.
I had forgotten that girl.
Margaret had found the picture in an old album and placed it there without asking either of us.
Daniel noticed me in the doorway.
“I can ask her to remove it,” he said.
“No need.”
He looked back at the photo.
“She looks young.”
“She was.”
“I was cruel to her.”
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes briefly.
“I used to tell myself you became strong after I left.”
