Aaron's already foul mood plummeted when he saw Keeley walk into class on Monday wearing an NYU hoodie over her uniform. It was another reminder that she was leaving him. He had only a couple of months left to forge a relationship strong enough to maintain contact after he went to Harvard.

He tried talking to his parents about attending Columbia instead—he'd been accepted to four Ivy League schools—but to no avail. Dinner with his parents was usually awkward, but the tension became palpable when he casually mentioned, "I've been thinking about attending Columbia in the fall."

His mother was so scandalized she nearly dropped her salad fork. "Why on earth would you go to Columbia when you've already been accepted to Harvard? That was your backup school!"

His father, Alistair, emitted a deathly aura. "Out of the question," he said. "Seven generations of Hales have attended Harvard. We have connections there. They have a building named after us. If you're going to succeed me someday, those connections are necessary."

"I can forge my own connections," Aaron insisted. "Columbia has almost the same acceptance rate as Harvard, and their business school is one of the best."

"Absolutely not!" Alistair roared, slamming his hands on the table. "If you don't go to Harvard, you can kiss your future role as CEO of Hale Investments goodbye!"

Aaron stabbed his arugula mutinously. That was a low blow. His entire life—both of them—had been devoted to his role as the family heir. His chance at a normal childhood had been sacrificed for his future at the company.

After Keeley died and he buried his grief in work, the company grew 64% in less than a decade. It became the most well-known investment company in the country before he suffered a heart attack. As an only child of an only child, the company was handed to his vice president.

How dare that man threaten to take away the only consistent thing in his son's life after all he'd done!

Unfortunately, Aaron lacked the power to defy his father. Winning Keeley over before graduation was his only chance, unless he wanted to risk losing her to someone else during their four-year separation.

He tried to make pleasant conversation. "Nice sweatshirt. Did you have a campus tour over the weekend?"

Keeley eyed him warily. "Yeah, I did. My dad took me, and we went to dinner afterwards to celebrate."

Aaron flinched at the mention of her father. His former father-in-law was alive, but that didn't erase the guilt he'd carried for nearly three decades.

"Are you close to your father?" he asked awkwardly.

He knew how much Keeley valued their relationship. She visited him weekly in the early days of their marriage, before business consumed their weekends as he consolidated his power and worked to oust Alistair.

A soft smile—one he hadn't seen since his rebirth—played on her lips. She was usually blank-faced or scowling. "Very. He's all I have left."

He almost corrected her. She still had him. But he hadn't been a good husband. Keeley certainly didn't consider him family by the time she died, and he wondered if knowing why would have made a difference.

As if realizing she was being too friendly, all expression left her face, and she stared at the whiteboard.

He barely resisted snapping his pencil. He wanted to shake her and demand an explanation for her coldness. She didn't even know him! Why wouldn't she give him a chance?

After class, her friend—Lila or Layla?—waited outside. She linked arms with Keeley protectively as they walked toward the student lounge.

Curious, Aaron followed at a distance, having noticed Keeley eating alone for weeks. He pulled his hood up and sat at a table behind them, facing away. He could hear them, but they couldn't see him.

"My mom grounded me for the rest of the weekend because we stayed out too late," Keeley's friend said. "I couldn't watch TV or use my phone, so I ended up doing a week's worth of homework. What about you?"

"I wondered why I didn't hear from you. My dad and I visited our family at the cemetery to tell them the good news, and we did a campus tour before dinner."

"Ah, so that's where you got the sweatshirt! Sorry about the cemetery, though. That must have been depressing."

"It wasn't so bad. We always cry, but at least we were able to talk about happy memories afterwards."

Keeley's tone wasn't sad, so Aaron relaxed. He knew she'd lost her mother and brother long before they met, but her drunk recollections were incoherent, so he knew little.

His guilt over his indirect role in her father's death flared. She'd lost so much, and much of it was his fault. He wouldn't let it happen again.

"That reminds me…do you know anything about scrapbooking?"

Keeley's friend sounded confused. "That thing old ladies do with photographs and craft supplies?"

"It's not just for old ladies! My dad wants me to finish my mom's scrapbooks before I graduate, and I don't even know where to start. I thought my mom had supplies, but I can only find glue sticks and a few half-used sticker sheets."

"Try a craft store. You'll find what you need there."

Keeley sighed. "Probably, but I don't know what to get. And my dad always complained about how expensive my mom's hobby was. This sweatshirt cost seventy bucks; we're broke."

"Construction paper is cheap," her friend offered.

"Yeah, but my mom always used fancy paper…I want to do this right for my dad. Maybe I could see if the art room has any leftover paper. Or I could walk my neighbor's dog fifty times to get extra cash."

The conversation turned to making extra money—something Aaron had never considered. He'd stumbled on a goldmine. He finally knew something Keeley wanted. Finding scrapbooking supplies couldn't be that hard.