登入ELARA'S POV:I walk down the long hallway toward my bedroom. The air in the corridor is cool, and the only light comes from the small brass wall lights scattered along the wallpaper. My shoes make a quiet tapping sound on the floor. The rest of the house is quiet now, the loud noise of dinner finally dying down into the late hours of the night.I open the door to my bedroom, step inside, and push it closed behind me.I toss my shoes near the closet and lie down flat on top of the bed. I lie there on my back, staring up at the white ceiling in the dark.The big glass window looks right out over the side garden, right down at the red roses my father planted years ago, and the wooden bench where I used to sit for hours and think about my life.I lay there and think about Alistair.I think about the way he sat across from me during dinner, his gray eyes following every small move I made with my hands. He looked like he was trying to memorize every detail of my face, like he was terri
ELARA'S POV:I am completely confused becaese that is the only word for it. I am confused in a way that I have not felt in seven long years, the type of confusing feeling that makes my head spin, my heart race, and my stomach drop with something that feels dangerously like hope.I have spent seven full years trying to wipe Alistair out of my mind.Seven years of telling myself that I was totally over him. Seven years of lying to my own face, pretending that what I felt when I was eighteen was just a stupid teenage crush that would fade away as I got older. I went out on dates with other men. I built my clothing career from the ground up. I traveled to different cities, worked late nights, and got almost everything I ever wanted in life. I told myself, over and over until my throat hurt, that I was fine. I was happy. I did not need him in my life anymore.But the very second I saw him step out of that car today, every single one of those buried feelings came crashing right back int
ALISTAIR'S POV:I force myself to turn my head back and look at her. She is standing right there in her light blue dress, her dark hair hanging over her chest, her green eyes searching my face with a desperate kind of curiosity.For a second, I come so close to breaking down and telling her every single thing that has nothing to do with Vladimir. I want to tell her about the absolute hell I went through during those final months in this house. I want to tell her how I spent every night lying awake in my bed, listening to her footsteps in the hallway, fighting the urge to get up and walk into her room. I want to tell her that I have been completely, insanely in love with her since I was fifteen years old, and that leaving the country was the only way I could keep myself from ruining her life.The truth is sitting right on the tip of my tongue, heavy and dangerous.But the fear hits me like a bucket of ice water. I am too terrified of what happens after those words leave my mouth. I
ALISTAIR'S POV:She shakes her head slowly. "Not at all. I do not remember anything after three in the morning. My brain was completely fried."The corner of my mouth twitches up into a small, real smile."You snored the whole way up the stairs," I say.She gasps, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. "I did not! I do not snore!""You definitely did," I say, keeping my tone deadpan. "It was actually a pretty loud."A bright flush of red spreads across her cheeks and down her neck. She looks down at her cloth napkin, trying to hide the big grin spreading across her face.The rest of the dinner passes in a strange blur. My mother goes back to talking about the party schedule, my father talks about some repair work needed on the roof of the manor, and Hope keeps bugging Elara to look at some clothing sketches she drew in her notebook earlier today.But the heavy mood over our side of the table has shifted. The cold wall between Elara and me feels a little thinner now.Every cou
ALISTAIR'S POV:Her voice is low enough that the rest of the table does not hear her over my father's story about the wine. Her green eyes are fixed on mine, full of quiet curiosity.I shake my head once. "No. Nothing is wrong. I am fine.""You barely touched your food," she points out, looking down at my plate before looking back up at my face. "You seem really far away.""I am just tired," I lie, keeping my voice as flat as possible. "It was a very long flight from New York, and I did not sleep much last night."She gives a slow nod, but she does not look convinced. She stays quiet, her eyes scanning my face, staring at my jaw and my forehead like she is trying to read a hard message written under my skin.I cannot take the intensity of her look. I turn my head away, pick up my glass, and take another long drink of wine."Tell me about your life in New York," Elara says a few minutes later, turning her body slightly toward me. "I read all the news articles about your company.
ALISTAIR'S POV: Hope leans way forward over the table, resting her elbows right on the wood. "Can I see it? Do you have the blue prototypes on your laptop? Can you show me how the arm sensors read muscle movements?" I manage to pull my mouth into a small smile. "Maybe later this weekend, Hope. It is pretty complicated stuff." She rolls her eyes and pouts. "I am thirteen now, Alistair. I am not a little kid anymore. I can understand hard math." Elara breaks into another quiet laugh from across the table. "Hope, you are still thirteen. You are definitely still a kid." "I am not," Hope says, crossing her arms over her chest and slouching back into her seat. "I am basically a teenager, which means I am practically an adult." I look right back at Elara. She is still smiling, her eyes warm and crinkled at the corners, her lips turned up into a soft, genuine grin. She looks totally relaxed. She looks like she completely belongs in this house, surrounded by the people who care abo
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
Her phone buzzed.She pulled it out of her pocket. A message from Harold Wentworth, her father's lawyer."Divorce papers are ready. I've emailed them to you. Print, sign, and leave them for him. I'll handle the rest."She opened the email. Scrolled through the document. Page after page of legal lan
At seven thirty she put the pasta water on to boil, figuring she'd wait until he was actually here to cook it so it would be fresh. She sat on the couch with a book she couldn't focus on, her phone in her hand, checking it every thirty seconds like a teenager waiting for some boy to notice her. At







