He had just walked out of a charity gala where he’d casually donated half a million dollars. Cameras flashed, hands were shaken, praise was given. But even with all that noise, he couldn’t look himself in the mirror. Money couldn’t bring back his son Adam, who had died three Christmases earlier.

No amount of success could fill the silence waiting for him in his penthouse.

“Sir,” his driver said quietly, easing the car to a crawl. “You might want to see this.”

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