On the other side was his will. Throughout his life, Anthony Rawlings could boast few attributes; however, the one that had remained strong was his word. As storms raged, he remained steadfast, knowing that above all, he was a man of his word. He’d made the decision to set Claire free. He’d spoken that edict to Jim and to his friends. Despite the desire and want, Tony knew that he had to do what was right. For the first time in their lives, Tony had to put Claire first.

Her voice pulled him from his internal struggle as she looked out the windows. “We’re near the estate. What about the fire? Was there a lot of damage?”

“That’s what I want to show you,” he replied, anxious to see her reaction.

The iron gates opened and the trees parted. With her new home in view, Claire gasped. “What happened?”

It wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. “You don’t like it?”

“I-I don’t know. Did the whole house burn?”

“No. There was a lot of smoke and water damage, but the fire was pretty much contained to the first level, southwest corridor.”

Tony stopped the car. Before he could get to her side, she was out and standing before the large white-brick home. He watched her eyes as she took in the long porches, black shutters, and stately columns. When she didn’t speak, Tony asked, “Do you want to see inside?”

“What happened to our house?”

“I had it demolished,” he explained. “I built it for the wrong reasons. It was our house, but it was never a home. It contained too many memories.”

“So you got rid of it? Tony, there were good memories there, too.”

“I built that house for Nathaniel.” His gaze begged for understanding. “Claire, I had this home built for you.” Tugging her hand, he led her inside, watching her response as they progressed from room to room. With each step he prayed the allure of the home would fill her with the peace and security he’d intended. Her eyes widened as they entered the polished oak foyer. Her expression warmed as her eyes scanned each room and took in the windows covering the entire back of the house. In the living room, the glass extended two stories. In the kitchen he saw the spark of approval he’d longed to see.

“Oh, this looks like a kitchen where I’d love to cook,” she said.

Tony smiled. “You have a cook, but it’s your kitchen. You can do whatever you’d like.”

He took her down to the lower level through a theater room, fun family area, and an exercise room. It was as he opened the doors to the inside lap pool that he squeezed Claire’s shoulders and said, “I couldn’t build you a house without your favorite room.”

Standing in awe, she finally whispered, “It’s beautiful, thank you.”

Still holding her hand, he led her upstairs to the bedrooms: Nichol’s first and then hers. When they entered the master suite, Tony walked to the far wall and opened the draperies. As they parted, the room filled with natural light and two large French doors were exposed. Opening the doors, he beckoned her to the balcony. Stepping outside, he watched his wife as she shook her head and said “Tony, everything is so open and bright.”

Lifting her hands, he kissed the soft skin and stared into her emerald eyes. “This is your glass house, one that won’t shatter. I don’t want you to ever feel trapped again. I want you to be able to see the sky and sun or the moon and stars whenever you desire.”

She stepped closer, melting against him. “Thank you, I love it! But how—how did you do this? You were in prison.”

“I had a lot of help.”

Stepping to the rail, Claire scanned the grounds below. From their view they could see a pool, a basketball court, a large play set, and the edge of the gardens. Tony couldn’t be happier with the finished home. He owed his gratitude to Courtney. Everything was there, and beyond it all were Claire’s woods and her lake. That was why he couldn’t sell. It was why he prayed she wouldn’t sell. Claire was right: despite the bad, Tony knew the estate contained good memories. He hoped those would prevail. Tony and Claire sat on a gliding seat, and he said, “Of course, you still have your island. If you’d prefer, you can move back there. Although this view is beautiful, it’s difficult to compete with the view from your lanai. I just thought it might be easier on Nichol if you lived closer to John and Emily for a while.”

She lifted her head from his shoulder and asked, “Why do you keep saying you? You mean we.”

He couldn’t put it off any longer. If he did, Tony feared he wouldn’t be able to go through with his plans. Reaching into his breast pocket, he removed the envelope which Brent had given him less than twenty-four hours ago. “You and Nichol. Claire, this house, the entire estate, it’s yours.”

Her contented expression morphed. Tony watched as confusion became panic. With tears suddenly threatening, Claire replied, “I don’t know what’s in that envelope, but whatever it is, I don’t want it.”

Looking out over the trees, he tried to reassure her and to help her understand. Exhaling, he explained, “I tried to contact you. I wanted to be with you, to be there for you. The scene at the estate was crazy. When you pulled the trigger…”

He continued to talk, to fill in the gaps of what she knew and remembered. There was so much that had happened in the two years since that incident. How could he possibly sum it all up? How could he explain what he’d been through, what he’d done? Tony knew it hadn’t just been him. She’d been through hell, too. They both had. If only they could have walked through the flames together, but they didn’t. They’d both taken their own personal journey, ones that brought them back to here, back to the beginning.