I don't say anything.
That's the right instinct and I follow it. Because the look on Dominic's face right now is not something that needs words added to it. It needs space. The specific, difficult space of a person sitting with the possibility that someone they love without reservation might have done something unforgivable.
He pushes off the wall and walks to the window at the end of the hallway. He stands with his back to me and his hands in his pockets and he looks out at the grounds for a long moment.
I give him thirty seconds.
"Tell me about Callum," I say quietly. "Not the version I've seen. Tell me something different."
He doesn't turn around. "He's seven years younger than me. After our parents died he was nineteen and I was twenty-six and I ran the company and I raised him at
