Damien was fading.

He had refused chemotherapy. Every afternoon, the doctor came by to set up an IV drip and administer a painkiller injection. In front of the children, Damien kept himself composed — quiet, gentle, the same man he had always been. On better days, he would sit with them and help them through their schoolwork.

At dusk, a lounge chair had been set up in the gazebo on the villa grounds. Madam Summers had tucked soft pillows behind him so he could ...