Simon’s friend knew him better than he thought.
“I’m not here to discuss my marriage.”
“Oh, I know,” Rowan mused. “Your entire life has been aboutthis. Finding the man who took everything from you. Since the day your aunt pulled you from the wreckage, since the day sheraised you as her own, you’ve had a single purpose.” He met Simon’s gaze.
“Now, I’m closer than ever.” Simon’s grip tightened around his glass. “Which is why I cannot afford mistakes.”
“Is she a mistake?”
Silence.
For the first time that evening, Simon looked away.
Rowan smirked knowingly. “Ah.”
Simon clenched his jaw and got up from his seat. He strode toward the fireplace, bracing a hand against the mantel.
“The bastard who did this has lived freely foryearswhile my parents rotted in the ground,” he murmured. “While I—” He exhaled sharply. “While I became the man I am now.”
Rowan’s expression softened as he watched him. “A man who does not have the luxury of distractions.”
“You’re right. Tell me again what you’ve learned,” he said, steering the conversation back to the matter that had brought him here. “We should keep on topic.”
Rowan chuckled, unbothered as always. “Suit yourself,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his expression now turning serious. “The man we spoke of before—the one who was seen lingering near your estate that night—well, I did some digging on him.”
“Go on.”
“He seems to have a record,” Rowan’s tone darkened. “His actions were calculated.”
“Iknowthat,” Simon snapped. “That is notnewinformation, Rowan.”
“Why must you get frustrated with me? I am on your side,” Rowan grumbled. “You must realize how difficult it is to unearth information about something that happened twenty bloody years ago? People forget, and theylie.”
Simon clenched his fists. He hated that Rowan was right.
“Then find me someone who remembers.”
“I am trying.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Try harder.”
Rowan let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “Yes, Your Grace,” he murmured dryly. “I wonder, does your new wife know about your little vendetta?”
Simon’s entire body tensed, and his friend noticed immediately. He did not even need to answer.
“Ah. That isinteresting. Do you plan on telling her at least?”
“No,” Simon said curtly. “It does not concern her.”
“Doesn’t it?”
Simon shot him a warning look.
“Youaremarried, Linwood. And marriage—at least, a successful one—is built on honesty.” He took a lazy sip from his glass. “Or so I’ve heard.”
“Since when did you become an authority on marriage?” Simon scoffed.
