I asked myself that question for nine days.

On the tenth, Adrian answered it for me.

He walked into my hospital room carrying a small velvet box.

Our engagement ring.

“I spoke to the wedding venue,” he said. “They can give us another date in three months.”

I stared at him.

He was planning a wedding while I was still learning how to stand without becoming dizzy.

“Adrian.”

He smiled faintly.

“We lost time. I want to fix that.”

“No.”

His smile disappeared.

“What?”

“I don’t want another date.”

He looked toward Elliot’s crib.

“Emma, you’re exhausted. We don’t need to decide anything now.”

“I already decided.”

I removed the ring from the bedside drawer and placed it beside his box.

“Elliot and I are going home with my mother.”

Adrian’s expression hardened.

“He’s my son too.”

“Then you can learn how to be his father.”

He stepped closer.

“And what does that mean?”

“It means being present. Not appearing after everything is over and expecting your place to still be waiting.”

For the first time, Adrian had no answer.

That evening Sophie came with paperwork.

Not flowers.

“Don’t panic,” she said. “I checked something.”

She placed several printed pages on my blanket.

They were translated medical records from Switzerland.

Camille had indeed been ill.

But one date had been highlighted.

She had been discharged from inpatient care five weeks after Adrian arrived.

I stared at Sophie.

“He stayed almost six months.”

“I know.”

The room suddenly felt colder.

Maybe Adrian had stayed because she still needed help.

Maybe there was a reasonable explanation.

I hated myself for immediately trying to create one.

Then Sophie handed me another page.

A property rental.

A chalet outside Montreux.

Two occupants.

Camille Hayes.

Adrian Blake.

Lease term:

Five months.

Exactly the period after Camille left the hospital.

I didn’t cry.

Something inside me had already become too tired for tears.

The next morning Adrian came back.

I handed him the lease.

His face changed.

“Where did you get this?”

“That isn’t an answer.”

He sat down slowly.

“Camille couldn’t live alone.”

“So you lived with her.”

“She was recovering.”

“For five months?”

His jaw tightened.

“It’s complicated.”

That sentence finally made me laugh.

Everything that hurt me was always complicated.

Everything he wanted from me was always simple.

Wait.

Understand.

Forgive.

I pointed toward the door.

“Leave.”

“Emma—”

“Go.”

He didn’t move.

Then someone knocked.

A woman stood outside.

Camille.

She looked thinner than in the photographs I’d seen, but perfectly capable of standing without Adrian holding her up.

Her eyes moved to Elliot.

Then to me.

“I told him he needed to tell you.”

Adrian stood sharply.

“Camille, not now.”

She ignored him.

“Emma, he didn’t stay in Switzerland because of my health.”

I looked at Adrian.

His face had gone completely still.

“Then why?”

Camille swallowed.

“Because of my father.”

Adrian closed his eyes.

Camille continued.

“My father was Adrian’s first investor. Years ago, before you met him.”

I frowned.

Adrian had always told me he built his consulting firm alone.

Camille reached into her bag.

“My father’s company was failing. Adrian stayed because they were trying to save it.”

“That still doesn’t explain six months.”

“No.”

She looked directly at me.

“The rest does.”

She handed me a contract.

At the top were two company names.

One belonged to Camille’s family.

The other belonged to my mother’s investment group.

I read the signatures.

My mother’s.

Camille’s father’s.

And Adrian’s.

The agreement was dated four years earlier.

Before Adrian proposed to me.

My pulse began to race.

“What is this?”

Camille answered quietly.

“Your engagement wasn’t just personal.”

Adrian stepped between us.

“Enough.”

I looked past him.

“Keep talking.”

Camille’s eyes filled with regret.

“Your mother’s company had the capital Adrian needed. My father had the technology. Adrian was supposed to bring both families together.”

I looked at him.

“You knew my mother before you met me?”

He said nothing.

That silence was enough.

Camille handed me one final page.

A clause had been marked in yellow.

If Adrian married into my family, control of a major block of shares would transfer to a new holding company.

His company.

I felt something inside me go completely quiet.

“You proposed because of this?”

“No.”

His answer came too quickly.

“Maybe at first I approached you because of the deal. But I loved you.”

“At first?”

He realized what he’d admitted.

Camille whispered:

“Emma, there’s something else.”

Adrian turned toward her.

“Don’t.”

She didn’t stop.

“The agreement had a second condition.”

I read farther.

The transfer would become permanent only after Adrian and I had a legal heir.

My eyes slowly moved toward Elliot.

Adrian went pale.

Then Sophie, who had been standing near the window, picked up another document Camille had brought.

Her expression changed.

“Emma…”

“What?”

She turned it toward me.

Someone had amended the agreement six weeks before Adrian left for Switzerland.

The amendment removed my name.

And replaced it with Camille’s.

But the signature approving the change was supposedly mine.

I had never signed it.

I looked at Adrian.

He wasn’t watching me.

He was staring at Camille.

And Camille whispered:

“That amendment is why he really went to Switzerland.”