ARIA

“Because I’m dying.” The words are matter-of-fact, but I see the fear beneath them. “I have months, maybe weeks if the doctors are being optimistic. And before I go, I need to know that my son won’t spend the rest of his life alone, hiding behind contracts and arrangements.”

Tears prick my eyes unexpectedly. “Isabelle...”

“I’m not asking you to love him.” She releases my arm. “I’m asking you to see him. The real him, beneath the billionaire and the ruthlessness ...