Ladd and Pauline lounged on the terrace, enjoying the slow pace of their holiday.
“Pauline, I’m just glad Latham met Dorothea. Honestly, if he hadn’t, I don’t know what I would’ve done with that boy.”
Pauline grinned. “Come on, Latham’s good-looking. What could possibly worry you?”
“You have no idea. The night Hattie died, Latham got into a terrible car crash. The doctors said he might lose his legs. I had Scott take care of Hattie’s funeral while I flew overseas to find the best specialists, just to make sure Latham could keep his legs.”
Pauline’s eyes widened. “It was that bad?”
Ladd still felt a chill run through him just remembering it. Back then, he’d shut down all the news, refused to let the media say a single word. Even though he was drowning in grief, he had to keep himself together and sit by Hattie’s side, keeping vigil like nothing else mattered.
That was when Ladd realized money couldn’t do everything. It couldn’t save Hattie.
And of course, Jarrett showed up, blaming him for not protecting Hattie. Ladd nearly punched him right then and there, but Scott stepped in and stopped it from getting ugly.
When Hattie was finally laid to rest, Ladd barely left Latham’s side. But Latham was in a dark place, and rehab was brutal. Scott suggested sending him abroad for treatment. Latham agreed, but he wouldn’t let anyone go with him. Ladd snuck out there a few times anyway, just to watch Latham grind through therapy. He’d stand in the shadows, wiping away tears so no one would see.
It felt like he’d aged ten years overnight. He would have taken Latham as a wild, reckless kid any day, as long as he could walk. The thought of him stuck in a wheelchair forever was unbearable.
“But he pulled through,” Ladd said, finally smiling. “He actually made it. Even the doctors said it was a miracle. His injuries were so bad, and to recover like he did... most people would have given up. Out of ten thousand, maybe one would get that lucky.”
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