“I came back to New York to marry you,” he said quietly. “To love you again. I wanted to believe the girl under that oak tree still existed. But every time I close my eyes, I see my mother’s body instead. The way she screamed. The way they left her.” His jaw clenched. “You—your father’s men—did that to her. Tell me, Penelope, how does a man forgive that? How does he forget?”
