He believed it was justice.

He believed she would never know.

But three days later, Emma heard a contractor speaking on the phone.

“Yes, Mr. Harrison. Ms. Parker loved the lab. Nobody knows you paid for it.”

Emma froze.

That evening, after the boys were asleep, her phone rang.

“Nathan,” she answered coldly.

“Emma,” he said. “We need to talk.”

She looked toward the apartment door, as if she already knew he was downstairs.

“Come up,” she said.

Then her voice hardened.

“But understand one thing first.”

“What?”

“You still have no idea what you’ve done.”

PART 2

Nathan Harrison had walked through Malibu beach houses, Manhattan penthouses, and conference rooms where one chair cost more than a teacher made in a year.

Yet Emma’s apartment made him feel smaller than any of them ever had.

It was modest.

Warm.

Full of life.

Children’s drawings covered the refrigerator.

Two backpacks hung by the door.

Science books were stacked across the dining table.

Dinosaurs.

Planets.

Volcanoes.

Astronauts.

There was no wealth there.

But there was love.

“The boys are asleep,” Emma said the second he entered.

“You will not wake them.”

Nathan nodded.

“You will not ask them questions.”

He nodded again.

“And you will not stand there looking guilty so I’ll feel sorry for you.”

Nathan lowered his gaze.

Emma stood between him and the hallway like a locked gate.

“How long have you been investigating me?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

He swallowed.

“I asked for basic information.”

“Basic?” she snapped. “My address? My school? My debts? My children’s schedules?”

“Our children.”

Emma’s eyes went cold.

“No.”

The word struck him harder than shouting would have.

“Not yet.”

She crossed her arms.

“You don’t get to disappear for five years, throw money at my life like some billionaire hero, and then walk in calling yourself a father.”

“I know.”

“No, Nathan. You don’t.”

Her voice cracked.

“You’re trying to understand five years in five days.”