“Ms. Dawson?”

I look up from my hands, which have been trembling since I arrived at this building, and meet Mr. Hunter's eyes. The senior Mr. Hunter, although there are some striking similarities between father and son. He smiles at me, and I steel myself. I'm not going to get taken in by his false warmth. I came here to do one thing, and I'm going to get it done.

“Hello,” I say, rising, and he beckons for me to come inside his office.

The last time I was here, I was here with Matthew, and our plan was falling to pieces. At least, that's what I thought at the time. Now I think that no matter what happens, we're going to get the world's most precious gift. And it has nothing to do with the trust.

Mr. Hunter moves through the office toward a table at the side. “May I offer you something to drink?”

“No, thank you.” I stride purposefully toward his desk, sitting down in one of the chairs across from his own. 

He laughs. “You're a woman on a mission.” Then, as if he's humoring a child, he goes around behind his desk and sits, folding his hands on the surface of the desk. “What have you come to talk to me about?”

I lift my chin. “It's time for you to release the trust.”

He nods, frowning a little. “I was hoping you wouldn't say that. The terms of the trust are out of my control. Without a born heir, I—”

“Shut up.” I snap the words with all the fury that's been building up in me for two and a half weeks. “Shut your mouth, Mr. Hunter.”

His eyes go wide. It's probably been a long time since someone last spoke to him like this. “Ms. Dawson, I don't know what you think—”

I stand up from my chair and open the button of my blazer, revealing the belly that's already getting round. “I'm pregnant with your son's baby, Mr. Hunter,” I say, keeping my voice as calm as I can. “It's healthy, and he or she is going to be born. But that's not what matters.”

“It's not?” His voice is dripping with sarcasm.

“Not entirely. What also matters is your son.” I take a deep breath and swallow the lump forming in my throat. “Your son is trying to do something incredible for people who need it, and it's time you stopped standing in his way.”

“If he was a savvy businessman—”

“He's as savvy as they get, Mr. Hunter. The reason he needs this money is so he can take the next step. Hunter Housing is about to become huge. I don't think you realize—” I look into his eyes. He doesn't realize. He doesn't realize that all the major investors need is to see that Matthew has the first part of the seed money. 

“I'm not interested.” The words are flat, and Mr. Hunter looks away from me, toward the window. 

“You're not interested in the major work of your son's life?”

He sneers, meeting my eyes again. “Why would I be interested in that? I never wanted him to join the Army in the first place. All this—” He waves his hand like he's indicating Hunter Housing and all its projects. “This is just to spite me, to get back at me. He didn't like that I wanted him to go to college, to get a damn education, to—” Mr. Hunter's face gets redder with each word. “He didn't give a shit that I wanted him to survive.” His hand flies to his mouth. My heart breaks.

It breaks for the man standing in front of me, hair gone gray, who has kept up this bitter front all this time.

Of course he wanted his son to survive. My own hand goes to my belly. I want this baby to survive, too. I want my daughter—or son—to survive, and thrive, and be happy. And Mr. Hunter has spent the last several years watching his son suffer because of what happened in the Army. 

I take in a steady breath and let it out.

“I want him to survive, too,” I say softly. “But you're looking at it the wrong way.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “Oh, am I? Am I looking at it that way? Because all I see is a man obsessed with the past. He keeps forcing himself in front of all those homeless veterans, knowing that not much separates them from him. Not much at all.”

“I agree with you.”

He's ready to argue until the words register. “I seriously doubt that, Ms. Dawson.”

“I do agree with you. He was lucky. He was lucky to have you as his father. I've seen his scar, Mr. Hunter. I know you must have paid for the best care possible once he arrived home.”

“I did, but I'd—” He shakes his head. “I never let him know that. I let him think the military insurance paid for everything so I wouldn't ruin his fragile pride.” His eyes blaze. “They didn't pay for everything. They didn't pay for—” He presses his lips together like he's realizing too late that he doesn’t want to go into specifics. 

I stand there, looking down at him. “I don't think that really matters. Not now.” It sounds harsh, so I keep going before he can stop me. “But I think we both know that you can let him do what he wants to do. You can release the trust so that he can take Hunter Housing to the next level and help more people.” Then I say the words that could ruin everything or make everything right. “He's still alive, Mr. Hunter. You can be angry that he went at all. I know how fucking scared that must have made you. But he's alive. Let him live.”