Kelly snapped a look back at him. “Of course I’m troubled. My biggest concern right now is that I can’t get copies of Daniel’s photos.”

Simon smiled. “Is it?”

“I’m also dealing with an issue at work—”

“Side effects and sick children?”

“How do you know?”

Simon nodded to her name tag and then leaned against the counter, his voice mellowing in a singsong cadence. “I’ve been following the news, you know. Tell me about it.”

Her emotions bubbled up and the shaky wall she had built to hold them back crumbled. The excuses she was supposed to peddle. Made-up syndromes that didn’t need medical help. And now children sick from medication she was pushing. “My integrity keeps running into my company’s profitability.”

Simon gestured to the wall of frames. “I hear that a lot. And I’ve found over the years that the opposite of profit isn’t loss. The opposite of profit is people.”

Kelly regained her breath, enthralled by his advice. Warmed by his voice.

“You’re not alone, Kelly. It’s one of the downsides of our modern world, like when you hear the gambling authority give a rapid-fire warning about responsible gambling after a thirty-second tease about a life-changing lottery ticket. Or the beer manufacturer’s casual advice to drink responsibly after preaching how popular you will be when you don’t. Or in your case, promising the world to people and then telling them it’s their fault for listening to you.”

“I can’t be a part of this anymore. What do I do?”

“Now that you’re convicted of the truth in your life, you need to be honest about it.”

“But I’ll lose the house.”

Simon lifted a finger and wandered to the wall, stopping in front of the thick, ornate gold frame. “You’ll lose a lot more if you don’t.”

“Everyone lies, Simon.”

Simon stared at the photo in silence.

Kelly moved toward it. There was the slightest movement—like the flitter of hummingbird wings—and her breath drifted away. Now she saw two sick children in the hospital, wired into monitors crowding their tiny beds. And the name above the beds was crystal clear in thick, black pen: Dr. Anthony Scott.

Time slowed as the photo drifted in and out of her focus. “Who are you?”

A tear formed in the corner of Simon’s eye. “I am a seeker of truth. I help others seek it too.”

Kelly’s glance flickered back to the frame. This was inescapable truth.

“Truth isn’t easy, Kelly. Everyone holds secrets. But most often life is better without them.”

The waft of chemicals reached Kelly’s nose. The smell of something developing.

Simon raised a finger to the second child in a hospital bed, her wide, sad eyes begging for relief. “Why don’t we start here? What if that were Milly?”