The young mother from the store.
I froze.
She wore a sleek navy dress. Hair styled elegantly. Posture straight, assured. The exhaustion I’d seen before was gone. Strength replaced it.
She saw me first. Her face lit up.
She excused herself from Carter and walked straight toward me.
“You,” she said warmly, eyes shining. “I’ve been hoping I’d see you again.”
My husband stiffened beside me.
“This is Alyson,” Carter said, joining us. “My sister.”
Sister.
My stomach dropped. Apparently, no one knew Carter had one.
Over quiet drinks, Alyson told me the truth.
Their father had died suddenly three months ago. He left the company and most of the estate to Carter. Alyson received a small trust—nothing controlling, nothing powerful.
Her husband had married her expecting wealth and influence. When he realized she wouldn’t inherit the empire, he walked away. Leaving her with a newborn and mounting bills.
“I was too ashamed to call my brother,” she admitted. “I thought I’d failed.”
The two hundred dollars I had given her had covered a week in a modest motel. It gave her breathing room. It gave her pride back.
In that room, Carter finally found her after weeks of searching.
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