At forty-five, Dominic Thorne possessed everything the world deemed essential for a life of prestige. He was the chief executive of a logistics empire based in Phoenix, overseeing a fleet of trucks that crossed every border from coast to coast.
Industry analysts labeled him a shark while his investors saw him as a visionary. His employees simply knew him as the man who never hit the brakes, a leader who lived by the motto of constant expansion.
From a distance, his existence appeared flawless and sturdy. However, heavy success often acts as a shroud for the things that are slowly rotting away underneath.
Late at night, when the floor of his skyscraper grew quiet and the desert stars twinkled over the horizon, Dominic stayed in his leather chair longer than he needed to. The heavy silence of the empty office was a weight that his spreadsheets and profit margins couldn’t balance out.
Years before, his first wife, Rosalie, had been taken by a sudden medical complication. She had been the heartbeat of their family, the one who turned a cold house into a home filled with the smell of baking and the sound of genuine laughter.