She looked at him with wounded eyes. “You’ve said enough.”
“I was wrong,” he said, breathless. “I know about Hendrix. I know you were set up.”
She froze.
“I should have trusted what I saw,” he continued. “Not what I read. I saw how you cared for my son. That’s the truth.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“My lawyers are already reopening the case,” he said. “We’re clearing your name.”
“Why?” she whispered.
He stepped closer.
“Because my son needs you. And because I do too.”
For the first time in years, Emma didn’t look afraid.
She looked home.
“I guess I’m missing that bus,” she said softly.
Marcus let out a shaky laugh. “Good. Because I’m not letting you disappear again.”
Six Months Later
The ballroom of the Sinclair Grand Hotel glittered under crystal chandeliers.
But this wasn’t a corporate gala.
It was a celebration.
Dr. Emma Sinclair’s medical license had been fully reinstated.
Timothy—walking confidently on his own—ran between guests, grinning from ear to ear.
Marcus took the microphone.
“They say money can’t buy happiness,” he began, looking at his wife—radiant in emerald silk, four months pregnant.