LOGINISABELLE VALANCOURT'S POV: We got married just two years later in the spring. I was twenty, and he was twenty-two. We didn't want a massive, showy event, so we held a small ceremony right in the garden behind my parents' house, surrounded by fresh summer roses, close friends, and the family members who actually mattered to us. He held both of my hands in his, looked me in the eyes, and promised to love me for every single day of his life. He kept that promise. He kept it every single day, without fail, for over fifty years. August shifts slightly under the heavy blankets, letting out a soft sigh. His eyelids flutter for a moment before his eyes slowly open. He looks right at me, and even now, with his body so weak and tired, the way he looks at me still makes my chest feel tight and my heart skip a beat. "Isabelle," he rasps. His voice is raspy and weak, barely louder than a whisper. "I am right here," I say softly, leaning closer so he doesn't have to strain. "I am right be
ISABELLE VALANCOURT'S POV:The bedroom is completely quiet except for the soft, steady beeping of the medical monitors sitting on the nightstand near the window.I have been sitting right here in this high-backed armchair for hours now, holding my husband's hand in both of mine, watching the shallow rise and fall of his chest. The whole room smells like the dried lavender I keep in the ceramic dishes, mixed with that sharp, artificial smell of medicine that I have come to hate over the past few months. It is a smell that constantly reminds me of doctors, clean hospital corridors, and endless hours spent sitting in cold waiting rooms listening to bad news.August is sleeping right now. His face looks peaceful, completely relaxed for the first time all day, with the sharp lines of pain finally smoothed away from around his eyes. He looks so much younger when he sleeps like this, almost like the boy I fell in love with all those decades ago. His thick silver hair has gotten thin over
CELESTINE'S POV:"Mother," I say, letting out a breath. "What are you doing here this early?""I came to help you out," she says, walking over slowly. "You look like you are about to drop."I let out a short laugh. It sounds tired, but it feels good to hear it."I am doing just fine," I tell her."You are completely worn out, Celestine.""I have too much to do to be tired."She walks right up to me and gently pulls the clipboard out of my hands, setting it down on the side table without asking."Celestine," she says, her voice firm. "You have been running yourself into the ground for three weeks straight. You need to sit down and take a breath.""I can't sit down yet. There are a hundred things that still need to get done before tonight.""There is always going to be something else to fix. But you are not going to be any help to your family if you pass out from exhaustion."I look at her face. It is lined with wrinkles from getting older, but her eyes are still just as shar
CELESTINE'S POV:I want to believe what he is saying. I really want to sit here and tell myself that everything is fine, that Alistair is just busy running his business, and that he will walk through the door and everything will go back to normal.But I cannot get rid of this bad feeling in my chest. There is something missing from the picture, something nobody is willing to say out loud to me."Do you remember the morning he left?" I ask him.Lysander’s jaw sets tight. "I remember.""He was only eighteen years old. He had just won that massive scholarship and he was so excited about his future. And then, out of nowhere, he packed up his things and left. He said goodbye to the two of us and Hope, but he completely avoided Elara. He couldn't even stand to look at her before he walked out."Lysander looks down at the gravel for a long time without saying a word."Maybe that was why he left," he says finally.I frown at him. "What do you mean by that?"He pauses, choosing his wo
CELESTINE'S POV:The garden is always quiet at this hour of the morning.I have been sitting here on the old stone bench for almost an hour, watching the sky change color over the valley and enjoying the cold air against my face. The rose bushes are completely wet with morning dew, their petals soft and sweet in the fresh light. Out in the trees, the birds are just starting to wake up and sing, their voices rising and falling in a pattern I have listened to thousands of times over the years.This has always been my favorite part of the day. It is the only moment when the whole world feels calm, before all the noise and busy work inside the manor starts up, and I can actually sit with my own thoughts for a minute without someone interrupting me.I look at the roses stretching along the wall and think about how much this place has changed over time.The fire ten years ago almost took everything from us. The whole east wing collapsed into dust. The old library was completely burned
HOPE'S POV:She sits in silence for a few seconds, looking at me like she is trying to figure out how much I actually know. Finally, she lets out a small laugh and shakes her head. "You are way too smart for your own good, Hope."I have heard that sentence a million times. My mom says it. My dad says it. Everyone says it when they realize I am not acting like a normal kid."I am not too smart," I say, keeping my voice steady. "I am just paying attention while everyone else is looking somewhere else."Elara lets out a long sigh and sets her phone face-down on the cushion between us. She turns her body toward me."Hope," she says gently. "There are just some things that are really complicated. Grown-up stuff that is hard to explain.""Try me," I reply. "I can understand plenty."She hesitates, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Then she leans closer and drops her voice. "Alistair is coming home. For the party."I do not let my face change. I actually already knew that. I heard
Celestine Valancourt stood in the bathroom of her penthouse apartment, her bare feet cold against the imported marble floor, staring at a little plastic stick that had just completely and utterly rearranged her entire universe. There were two little pink lines staring back at her. Two little lines
KIER'S POV:I pour myself a drink and I sit in the dark and I wait for her to come back.She always comes back.But she does not come back.A week passes. Then another. The penthouse stays empty. My calls go straight to voicemail. My texts go unanswered. I send messages through her email, through s
She watched from the window as her father walked out to greet him.August Valancourt shook Lysander's hand with both of his, the way he did with people he truly respected, and he said something that made Lysander nod solemnly. Then her mother appeared, and Isabelle kissed Lysander on both cheeks, t
The forgotten anniversaries. There had been three of those. Three times she had dressed up nice and made dinner and waited and waited and waited until finally getting a text that said "working late sorry" with no exclamation points, no emojis, no nothing.The cruel comments. Those were worse."You







