Lifting her chin, she swallowed before she spoke. “I-I think I might… I might know…”

“What, Catherine? What do you know?”

Squaring her shoulders, she stood. “Mr. Rawlings? Really? After everything that we’ve been through, you suddenly want to be addressed as Mr. Rawlings—in private? And what respect do I get? After all, I was Nathaniel’s wife.”

“You were,” Tony agreed. “But since Rawls was taken from you, I suppose it would be London.”

Her eyes screamed with retorts, yet her lips remained pressed together in a straight line. Finally, she nodded. “Very well, Mr. Rawlings, I hope that you feel better in the morning. I believe this conversation is deteriorating faster than either of us is willing to admit.”

Tony chuckled and pulled the picture from his pocket. Thrusting it toward her, he asked, “What can you tell me about this?”

Slowly, she took the photo and unfolded it. “It’s a picture of Claire and Emily at Claire’s graduation.” Meeting his eyes, she asked, “Why?”

“Because apparently it was just part of a prison delivery that Claire received.”

Catherine stepped back. “I didn’t include… I don’t know… she told you?”

“She blindsided me. You didn’t think it would have been helpful to let me know about your little package before I went to see her?”

Her hands ran over her skirt as she sat and perched on the edge of the chair. “Anton-thony, I should have.” She nodded. “I should’ve told you when I first did it. It was just that… well, I saw how much you were hurting.”

“And telling Claire my birth name would help that—how?” Tony’s baritone voice echoed throughout his regal office.

“It would help her understand why you did what you did.”

“What about you? Did you add your autobiography to this delivery as well?”

“She didn’t share all of the contents?”

“If you are asking if she invited me to her condominium to see for myself, no.” When Catherine didn’t reply, Tony went on. “She knew the name Anton Rawls and that my parents and grandfather were dead.”

“Anton, you have to understand.”

He raised his brow.

“Anthony,” Catherine corrected. “She wasn’t supposed to be released for a long time. I thought that maybe if she knew some of your background and if she had time to think about it, she would understand you better. She would want to understand you better.”

He stepped closer and his words slowed. “I don’t want you or anyone else going through my private things.”

“T-that picture, I didn’t send it.”

“But you did send pictures, and they had to have come from my information.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Catherine went on to talk about the articles she included. They were selected to create an accurate timeline designed to lead Claire to the right conclusion.

“And what exactly was the conclusion you wanted her to find?”

“I wanted her to know that you’d been obsessed with her far longer than she realized. I hoped that would show her that you did love her and had for a long time. I wanted her to understand that you are a man of your word, and you had a promise to keep. I hoped that if she understood all of that, she could forgive you and… I don’t know… help you.”

Tony sunk back in his chair. Running his hand through his hair, he asked, “Forgive me? She’s the one who left me.”

“Yes, An-nd she knows that she didn’t try to kill you. She knows that she spent over a year paying for a crime she didn’t commit. I had hoped that she would stop hating you for that consequence and start to understand you.”

His eyes closed as he processed her explanation. It wasn’t at all as he’d imagined it. Had Catherine’s plan worked? Did that information help to propel her to become the woman at the restaurant and in her condominium? Finally, he stared back at the steel-gray eyes watching him. “It wasn’t your place or your right to share.”

“It wasn’t your right to take her, either.”

“But it was all right to have her killed? That’s what you wanted.”

“No, Anton, that’s not what I wanted. I wanted the children of the children to pay, just as Nathaniel asked. I didn’t want to get to know them, reassure them, and tend to them. I didn’t want to nurse them back to health and have a personal relationship with them.” She stood. “You did that.” Her voice grew more determined. “You changed the rules and so did I.”

“I should fire you—kick you out of my house.”

“Do you think so?” Her cold tone sent a chill through the office. “Do you think Nathaniel would approve? Do you think your grandfather wanted me out on the street? Perhaps you’re just not willing to admit that if Claire knows you, really knows you, she might understand you. Is it that difficult to admit that I had a good idea?”

Their nearly thirty-year history fast-forwarded through Tony’s mind. Images of his grandfather were a blur to the years of planning and manipulating. “You’re not fired. Just stay the hell out of my private things! That means my closet, my suite, and my files. You know?” His brow rose. “She could send us both to prison if she fully unravels your trail. Do you still think that it’s a good idea?”