Page 116 of Money Reigns
I look down, then back up.
“Peonies,” I whisper. “Blush pink ones.”
Warren nods once. “Noted.”
And I don’t know why, but I believe him.
That he’ll remember.
That I’ll come home one day and they’ll be there.
Waiting.
My heart shouldn’t flutter.
It does anyway.
We walk in silence for a while, the gravel path winding beneath our feet. The wind teases a loose strand of hair into my face, and I tuck it back, needing something,anything,to keep myself grounded.
So I ask.
“So when you renovate the Parker Building… are you going to do something with it?”
His gaze shifts, but he doesn’t stop walking.
“Like what?” he asks.
“I don’t know. A plaque, maybe. Something for Noah?”
He hums. “Maybe.”
Then, after a pause:
“Perhaps.”
It should be a non-answer, but something in the way he says it feels loaded. Like the thoughts behind it are heavy. Sharp-edged.
He stops near a bench tucked beneath a weeping cherry tree, pink blossoms raining down around us, and sits. I stay standing.
“You know,” he says, eyes fixed forward, “you and my brothers are the only people who know the truth about the Parker Building.”
I frown, sitting beside him now, the breeze curling around my legs.
“I mean, I know of it,” I say gently. “I know it was a tragic moment for you. But I’m not sure I understand the full significance.”
He’s quiet for a moment.
Then:
“It’s the biggest stain I ever left on my family’s name.”
I blink. “What do you mean?”
His jaw clenches. His hands are resting on his thighs, but I can see the tension crawling up his arms.
“‘Beaumont’s child gets foster kid killed in abandoned building on the outskirts of town.’That was the headline.”
I feel my breath catch.
