Mara watched from the hallway, arms folded, trying unsuccessfully not to smile.
Grant met her eyes through the reflection.
He had once believed dignity meant maintaining control while everyone watched.
Now he understood it differently.
Sometimes dignity was telling the truth after someone powerful had hidden it.
Sometimes it was refusing to use money as a substitute for time.
Sometimes it was standing quietly beside four children and accepting that fatherhood was not something he had won back in a conference room.
It was something he would have to earn tomorrow.
And the day after that.
And every ordinary day he had left.
