Marry My Dying Son for Fifty Million,” the Billionaire Said But She Asked for the One Thing His Money Couldn’t Buy…

Lila turned carefully, as if sudden movement might break the sentence. “Did she?”

“She thought every serious house needed something ridiculous in it. My father wanted boxwood. She wanted roses that climbed everywhere and ignored instructions.” His voice changed so slightly that only someone listening for pain would have heard it. “She died when I was eleven.”

“I’m sorry.”

“People always say that.”

“Because there isn’t a better thing to say.”