Tony inhaled deeply. “Ate? We’re eating at the Bronsons.”

“It was just a snack and she seemed… shaky.”

“Shaky? Is that why she’s resting? I want to see her.”

“I can get her, but I suggest that you let her rest. Traveling can be tiring. You don’t need to be to your dinner for almost two hours.” Catherine’s head cocked to the side. “You know, if you hadn’t turned off the cameras, we’d know for sure if she were sleeping.”

“I know. I also know that she hated those cameras. This is better.” He turned on his computer and began to search the end of day stock-market analysis.

“She asked about the delivery.” Catherine’s statement caused the business at hand to disappear.

“Did you tell her?”

“No,” she answered indignantly. “You said you didn’t want her to know.”

“I said that if you tell her, you’re opening yourself up to her questions and suspicions. If you tell her, you might as well be willing to lay it all out. If you’re not willing to do that—don’t tell her.” He lowered his tone. “At least I’m giving you the option.”

Catherine looked away.

When she didn’t look back, Tony asked, “What else happened? Is she all right?”

“Yes, of course. Why?”

“I get the feeling you’re holding something back.”

Her lips smiled. “I think you’re looking for any excuse to get you upstairs to do what you want to do.”

“I want her to be comfortable. If that means resting, then she can rest.”

Catherine stood. “Very well, however, since you’re not eating here this evening, I’ll be leaving the estate in a short time. If she’s not awake, you’ll need to wake her.”

“Where are you going?”

“Some things are none of your business.”

He shrugged. “Where’s Cindy?”

“An-thon-y,” she said, each syllable enunciated. “Go to her suite. You’ll do the right thing.”

Catherine slipped from the office leaving Tony alone with his thoughts. All day long he’d anticipated this evening—coming home, not to an empty house, but to the place where Claire belonged. He reached into the drawer and found his new reminder below his old key ring; Tony pulled out the envelope. It wasn’t special in any way; to the casual onlooker, or even the curious snoop, it was only an envelope, but it was so much more. When Tony’s thoughts would begin to blur and red would slip inconspicuously into his vision, he’d remember this envelope.

Turning it in his hands, Tony heard Nathaniel’s words from his dream. Although he’d only had the dream once, every second of it had replayed in his mind so many times that he’d sometimes forget that it hadn’t really happened. Peering into the depths of the envelope, for the millionth time, Tony vowed to fill it. He wouldn’t allow it to stay empty, not because Nathaniel had said he failed, but because he’d succeeded. Tony had fulfilled his obligation: the Nichols family had suffered. Now, he wanted to exceed Nathaniel’s wishes just as he’d done financially. His grandfather had told him that he would survive. Tony had done more than survive: for a short time, he’d had everything.

A memory resurfaced, not of a nightmare, but a memory of one of Tony’s last visits to Camp Gabriels, the prison where Nathaniel died. There were times when his grandfather would repeat the same thought over and over; however, on occasion he’d share a nugget of truth. That happened on the day in Tony’s memory, yet Tony didn’t realize the treasure until almost twenty-five years later:

Tony stood as Nathaniel ranted on and on, lost in a tirade about Tony’s father, Sherman Nichols, and Jonathon Burke. Then without warning, Nathaniel turned his dark gaze on his grandson, and in his deep, menacing voice asked, “You know what?”

“No, sir,” Anton replied.

“You can’t lose everything until you have everything to lose. I had everything, and now look at me!”

It all made sense: after all of these years, Tony knew the truth. With Claire gone, his envelope was empty. In his dream, Nathaniel said that Tony received what he gave—and Tony finally conceded that his grandfather was right. Tony had given Claire a life with everything and then had taken it away—for the sake of the vendetta. In that process, he’d lost everything—everything he never realized he wanted. After she was gone, he still had the money, the estate, and the prestige, yet his life was as empty as the envelope in his hand. The vengeance had not only punished the people on their list, but it had punished him, taken away his everything.

It wasn’t until Claire was out of prison that Tony began to see. He’d been blinded by her actions and hadn’t realized how much he’d lost. Perhaps it was true and he was a selfish bastard, but seeing her beginning a new life, one without him, one with another man, cleared away the fog of Nathaniel’s vendetta.

Tony couldn’t make the past go away—if he could he would—however, he could spend forever showing Claire that he wanted her in his life, that without her, his world was empty. By allowing the vendetta to take away the only true happiness Tony had ever known, he’d failed his grandfather’s legacy. The Rawls name may be gone, but never had Nathaniel wished for an empty envelope—that was how Tony had failed.

Tony wasn’t sure how he would do it, or if it could be done, but he knew the woman asleep upstairs was his life, happiness, and future. In order to fill his void and honor his grandfather, he needed to make her see that, too. He needed to do more than that; he needed to control the one thing that could control him. Tony needed to control the red.