The photograph burned Julian’s retinas.

*Clara.*

The quiet, unassuming woman who packed Toby’s lunches. The woman who sat in the background at his corporate dinners, nodding politely while Julian bragged about his visionary designs to investors. The woman who had given up her master's degree in

The pediatric cardiology wing of St. Jude’s was painted in soft, unthreatening pastels, but to Clara Vance, the walls felt like they were closing in. The steady, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor was the only anchor keeping her tethered to reality.

Toby sat in the center of the oversized hospital

"The surgery was a complete success," Dr. Evans said, his tired eyes crinkling at the corners. "The graft held perfectly, and his heart rhythm is as steady as a drum. He's in recovery now. It'll be a few hours before he wakes up, but he did brilliantly, Mrs. Vance."

Clara couldn't breathe. The mass