Not because Santino wanted revenge.

Because Emily insisted on proof.

“Everything goes to the attorneys,” she said.

Santino looked irritated.

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

“You're giving orders now?”

“You hired me to manage your affairs.”

“My calendar.”

“You said correspondence too.”

“That isn't remotely the same thing.”

Emily placed another document on his desk.

“Sign.”

Santino stared at her.

Rafe laughed from the doorway.

“I like her.”

Santino signed.

Keene's records exposed a network of fraudulent vendors and hidden accounts.

More importantly, they cleared Daniel Taylor.

The money attributed to him had been routed through his company after his credentials were copied.

Emily sat alone in Santino's office when she saw the final report.

Daniel Taylor — no evidence of personal financial benefit.

She read it twice.

Then a third time.

Santino entered quietly.

She wiped her eyes before looking up.

He pretended not to notice.

“They cleared him.”

“Yes.”

“My father wasn't a thief.”

“No.”

Emily closed the report.

“For three years I wanted someone to say that.”

Santino moved beside her.

“Then hear it properly.”

She looked at him.

“Daniel Taylor was not a thief.”

Emily's eyes filled again.

“He was trying to protect your family.”

“And his daughter.”

She frowned.

Santino handed her an envelope.

Inside was a letter.

Emily recognized the handwriting immediately.

Em.

Her hands began trembling.

She looked at Santino.

“Where did you get this?”

“Enzo.”

The letter was short.

Daniel told his daughter he had discovered something dangerous. He told her not to pursue it if anything happened to him.

The final line broke her composure.

A life spent proving I was right isn't worth losing the life I worked to give you.

Emily lowered the page.

“He knew me too well.”

Santino remained silent.

“I did exactly what he told me not to do.”

“Yes.”

She glared at him.

“You could disagree.”

“I've learned that disagreeing with you rarely changes anything.”

She laughed through her tears.

For several seconds neither spoke.

Then Emily looked at his wheelchair.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You usually do.”

“The accident that put you in the chair.”

His expression shifted.

“Car accident. Seven years ago.”

“Does everyone still treat you differently?”

“Yes.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Only when they confuse needing assistance with needing permission.”

Emily remembered the pool.

Everyone waiting.

Nobody moving.

“That's why you asked who told me I wasn't allowed.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn't they help?”

Santino looked toward the bay.

“Because people around powerful men become obsessed with rules.”

“And I broke one.”

“You broke several.”

“Should I apologize?”

“No.”

Their eyes met.

Santino reached out.

Not touching her.

Waiting.

Emily noticed.

After a moment, she placed her hand in his.

His fingers closed around hers.

This time, nobody had decided for her.