“You’ve cleaned my home.
You’ve been in every room I own.
And until an hour ago, I could not have told you your name.” He glanced at the sleeping child against her leg, then back at her.
“That’s the thing I keep running into tonight.
All these months, the person telling me the truth was the one I’d decided didn’t count.
My mother.
My assistant.
And it takes a child who doesn’t know yet that some people are supposed to be invisible to walk across a room and hand me my own life back.” He shook his head slowly.
“I’ve been surrounded by people paid to agree with me for so long that I forgot what it sounds like when someone actually tells the truth.
It doesn’t sound like flattery.
It sounds like a three-year-old grabbing your hand and refusing to let go.”
Chapter 13 — The Confrontation
The study door banged open without a knock.
Camilla marched in, flushed, her father the senator a half-step behind her.