had already failed before his life had even truly begun.
My name is Travis Walker.
And before I met Eleanor Whitmore, I believed people only valued you when you had something to offer them.
Money.
Power.
Status.
A useful last name.
I grew up in a family where success was measured by numbers. My father was a businessman who believed emotions were distractions. My older brother became a lawyer, my younger sister became a doctor, and somehow I became the one everyone looked at with disappointment.
Not because I was a bad person.
Because I was ordinary.
My father never said he was ashamed of me, but he never had to.
The silence at the dinner table whenever my career came up said enough.
Then Eleanor entered my life.
I met her on a rainy afternoon in a small bookstore downtown.
I was standing in front of a shelf filled
