“Heal me and I’ll give you everything,” the millionaire whispered in despair“Heal me and I’ll give you everything,” the millionaire whispered in despair

Owen—the son of the housekeeper who lived in the small service suite behind the garage.

Miles’ jaw tightened.

“You shouldn’t be back here,” he snapped. “This area is off limits. Go home.”

The boy didn’t retreat.

Instead, he stepped closer, slowly, like someone approaching an injured animal that might lash out.

“I heard you,” Owen said. “Are your legs hurting?”

Miles gave a short, bitter laugh.

“No,” he replied sharply. “They don’t hurt. That’s the problem. I can’t feel them the way I used to. I can’t use them. And it’s not changing.”

Owen tilted his head, as if puzzling through a difficult math problem.

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