Liam Walton lingered by the coffee table, his gaze fixated on the divorce papers as if they were some inscrutable code he couldn’t decipher. The neatly printed words seemed to carry an unbearable weight, pressing down on him. It wasn’t until a housekeeper came upstairs to announce that dinner was ready that he finally jolted out of his daze.
“Sir, dinner is served,” the housekeeper said politely.
Liam, still holding the thin stack of pages in his hand, looked up. “All right,” he replied quietly. He slid the papers into a drawer of the coffee table, making sure they were out of sight but not out of mind, and left the room.
Descending the wide, elegantly carved staircase, he was struck by an unusual awareness of the home he had taken for granted for so many years. From the polished marble
