The door opened. She looked up. David was standing there. But he wasn’t the furious billionaire who had ordered her arrest. His eyes were red, and he looked like a man whose world had been destroyed and rebuilt in a single hour.
— “Vicky…” he said her name softly, almost with reverence.
She stood up.
— “Mr. Miller, I can explain everything…”
— “You don’t have to.” He walked toward her slowly. “Don’t explain. Don’t apologize. Don’t say a word.”
He stopped in front of her. This proud man, a leader of industry, looked her in the eye with profound humility.
— “Forgive me,” he said, his voice cracking. — “I am so sorry.”
Vicky gasped, her hand going to her mouth.
— “The doctors knew,” David said, fighting back tears. “They saw it years ago. They let my son suffer because treating him wasn’t as profitable as ‘managing’ him.”
Tears ran down his face.
— “I trusted them. I believed in the degrees and the expensive offices. I spent a fortune on the problem, but I never once stopped to just really look at my child.”
He looked at her with deep regret.
— “But you did. You saw his pain. You paid attention when everyone else was looking at my checkbook.”
Vicky’s tears fell freely now.
— “I just cared about him, sir. That’s all.”
David shook his head.
— “No. That isn’t ‘all.’ That’s everything.”
He took a steadying breath.
— “I spent eight years trying to buy a miracle. And God sent one through the woman I hired to mop my floors.”
Vicky wiped her eyes and managed a small smile.
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