Alexander Carter never thought of himself as a man who spied on others. In his mind, he was simply careful. Life had taught him too many times how quickly things could break apart. That was the reasoning he repeated silently as he approved the installation of twenty-six hidden security cameras throughout his massive estate.
Technicians moved quietly through the mansion, feeding wires through the walls like veins. Alexander watched the process with folded arms, telling himself it wasn’t about control.
It was about protection.
At least, that was what he believed.
Alexander was forty-four years old, newly widowed, and raising two infant twin boys by himself. Experience had taught him that trust often carried a cost.
The word “widower” still felt unreal.
Not because of his age, but because Emily Carter was never supposed to die.
Emily had been a pediatric neurologist in San Diego, a doctor beloved by parents and children alike. She had a rare ability to calm frightened children simply by speaking to them. For years, she and Alexander had tried to start a family. Two miscarriages had left their home filled with quiet grief.