Aaron was relieved Alice had finally left her abusive husband. He'd wished for this for a long time, as she reminded him too much of Keeley's past.

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"I didn't realize you and Alice were so close," his wife, Keeley, commented, petting Dinah, their dog, after the babies had fallen asleep.

She didn't seem angry; it was simply a statement. For a moment, he wondered if she was jealous.

"I wouldn't call us close. I made her a shareholder because I needed one more, and she was the only one I could think of. She's the most tolerable person in our social circle. We talk occasionally at board meetings and the events my father forces me to attend, but that's it."

Keeley raised an eyebrow. "She trusts you a lot for so little interaction."

Aaron shrugged. "I always keep my promises; she has no reason not to. You have so little faith in me."

"I do know you best," she teased. "But really, I feel sorry for her."

"So do I. I'm glad she asked for help. She reminds me of youin our first life," he admitted. "She's no happier schmoozing her in-laws than you were."

She was surprised, then softened. "Look at you, caring about others! I'm proud of you."

His heart swelled. He hadn't heard those words since 2011—a very long time ago.

He leaned against her shoulder, enjoying her warmth. He'd never stop being grateful for her second chance.

"It's all because of you," he said. "You made me want to be a better person."

She kissed his head. He understood. Keeley was touched.

His phone buzzed. It was his father. He rejected the call. Two seconds later, angry texts flooded in about attending Lacy Knighton's funeral.

He scoffed. He wouldn't attend. He didn't mourn her death; not going made a statement. He didn't care who he offended.

He'd hated her for two lifetimes; what was the point? He could publicly denounce her, but that would be in poor taste. He'd be the bigger person and stay away.

Alistair was furious at his son's lack of response. The funeral was about to begin. Lacy Knighton was important to Aaron; his absence was extremely disrespectful.

That worthless boy! He needed discipline, but Aaron's influence on the board left Alistair's hands tied.

He could try to force another engagement, but it seemed too soon after Lacy's death. He still couldn't believe it. How had a high-society woman died in a Bronx alley?

Brann, furious, offered a reward for information leading to an arrest. The police had no leads yet, but it had only been a few days since the body was identified. His NYPD contacts were gathering phone records and planned to question Lacy's frequent contacts.

"Where is Aaron?" Roslyn whispered to Alistair, sitting behind the Knightons.

"Not coming, I presume," Alistair gritted. He wanted to punish his son.

"How could he not be coming? He was supposed to marry her!"

"He hated her," a socialite interjected. "He made no secret of it. He's probably happy she's gone."

It was true, but horribly insensitive to say at a funeral. Who was this woman? Someone from their circle should know better.

Alistair recognized her: Alice Kelly. He considered her father a rival.

"Alice," her husband hissed. "Behave."

"I was only being honest," she retorted, then fell silent as the pastor began.

It was ironic; most people here disliked Lacy. She'd ruled her generation with an iron fist—many probably wished her gone.

The only mourners Alistair saw were Lacy's parents, a few relatives, and Maximillian Lynch, who had also been set on marrying her. A pity no one got what they wanted.

Lacy had died young and tragically, but Alistair didn't feel sorry for her. Aaron wasn't marrying her anyway; attending was a mere formality.

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