Chapter 16 The quitting bell rang, and the line of workers streamed out of the shop. Gideon Holt waited beneath a bare old ash tree by the gate and watched Angela Summers drift along with the crowd, head tipped down as if she were lost in thought. She did not see him at first. He drew a breath of knife-cold air and stepped in front of her. She felt someone block her path and looked up. Surprise flickered in her calm eyes, quick as a match, then went out. What remained was that still, dead-water quiet-no ripple at all, the way you look at a stranger. "Captain Holt?" Her voice was steady, edged with distance. "What is it?" His throat went dry. All the questions he had rehearsed, the orders he thought he'd give, collapsed under that level gaze. He stared at her wind-reddened cheeks and fingers and, after too long, managed only, "It's too cold and hard out here. Come back with me." Angela's smile was thin and chill. "Back where?" she asked softly. "Back to play housemaid for Captain Holt and Ms. Ward for free? Back so I can be on call to take the fall for her the next time you need me to? If I remember right, you should have received the decree already. We're nothing to each other now." She stepped around him. His hand shot out before he could stop it. Her wrist fit in his grip like a twig, ice-cold. "About the past..." His voice rasped, rough in a way that startled even him. "I may have... gotten some things wrong. I..." The apology stalled. "I'm sorry" crowded his tongue and wouldn't come out. He had hardly said those words to anyone in his life. Angela yanked free as if his touch were filth. She lifted her chin; her eyes were as cutting as the northern wind. "Wrong? One light word and it all goes away? Am I meant to forget the slaps, the batons, the stockade, and the way your neglect and bias nearly got me killed?" She held his gaze and enunciated every word. "Your 'mistake' cost me half my life and ten years of love. So stay out of my life." She turned and was gone with the shift crowd, swallowed by the dim corner of the street. Gideon stood where she left him, hand still hovering, fingers haunted by the cold of her wrist. The wind burned his face, but the hollow in his chest was colder. Her refusal-those words that found the softest parts of him and branded them-seared like hot iron. He did not leave the little city. He checked into the officers' guesthouse in the local garrison and started calling in every favor he had. He wanted every incident that ever touched Angela Summers and Elaine Ward torn open and laid bare-witnesses, tapes, documents, the works. This time there would be no bias and no assumptions-only facts. Chapter 16 69.57% Days later, the final report hit his desk, thick with sworn statements and, in places, audio and written corroboration. He read it almost without breathing. The further he went, the whiter his face turned; by the end, his hands. shook. It was all there. In the stable incident, more than one witness noticed Elaine's sudden motion at the horse's flank, remembered her clothes, her look. In the hospital incident, a nurse testified she heard Elaine whisper "Die." And a family member saw Elaine sidle up to Angela's IV line. In the jump-from-the-car incident, a street vendor confirmed Elaine shoved Angela away from her and threw herself toward the bike lane. There was more he had never known-small, "offhand" remarks Elaine scattered in front of him that soured his view of Angela and drove wedges for years. Then the addendum about the period when he was believed dead: she had not been forced by parents at all. Seeing the Holts falter and the other family's money gleam, Elaine had chosen to remarry. The tales of pressure came later, spun for his pity. Florence Florence is a passionate reader who finds joy in long drives on rainy days. She's also a fan of Italian makeup tutorials, blending beauty and elegance into her everyday life.