James found her that evening in the quiet stretch of corridor outside the west windows.
The review team had gone. The hall smelled faintly of ink and cold paper, the kind of scent that lingered after too many signatures.
“Five minutes?" he asked.
Clara kept her gaze on the frost collecting at the glass. “Four."
---
He didn't rush. “I'm not here to defend anything."
“That's new," she said.
“I believed things I shouldn't have," he went on. “And I let them be… convenient. It was easier to accept what I was told than to ask why."
Clara turned to him. “And sending me away was easier than standing up to Father."
He nodded, slow. “I thought it was discipline. I told myself it would help you. I didn't want to see what it really was."
“And now?" she asked.
“Now I do," he said. “And I'm s
