Chapter Nine
Trent used box tape to seal the last box of his books, then placed the roll on the wooden floor beside him and stared up at the empty aquarium built into the wall. His study was a shell of what it’d once been. The nights he’d spent in here, sipping cognac or whisky, bent over his laptop or the papers on his desk.
The memories of meetings, of Adalia in her fury and in her skin. God, it choked him up, it made him want to scream and rip the box open, start stacking everything back in place. Had he really sold their first home? The place where it’d all began?
Trent nodded to himself. Yeah, he had sold it and he’d do it again. Isaac and Adalia were all that mattered now, and selling the mansion meant giving his family a fighting chance.
Never mind the memories and the uncertain
