The television host leaned toward me under the studio lights. A red lamp above the nearest camera showed that we were live.
"Your exhibition has been a triumph, Mademoiselle Thorne. People are also talking about opening night and your ex-husband, Dante Rossi. After everything that happened, is forgiveness possible?"
The host waited. So did the camera crew behind her.
Remorse, then forgiveness, then romance. They wanted the old ending. I would not give it to them.
I folded my hands in my lap. They stayed still.
"If protection comes with a lock, it is a cage," I said. "Dante called it duty. I lived with the guards and the cameras. I am grateful to be out."
She glanced at her notes. "And forgiveness?"
"I don't spend my mornings deciding whether to forgive him. I paint. He can stay in m
