Mag-log inThe striking, facial structure. Sydney is an absolute, undeniable replica of the woman in the vintage photograph—Tobias’s mother. The almost psychotic protectiveness Tobias has shown toward Sydney from the very first moment he met her. The massive financial safety nets he threw under her, the fact
Before I can even open my mouth to apologize for breaking into his house, Tobias speaks. His voice is incredibly quiet, completely devoid of its usual sharp authority, yet it carries a heavy, haunting weight that pins me right to the carpet. "For years..." he murmurs, his finger continuing its slow
I stand frozen on the gravel path, the engine of Sydney’s departing car roaring in my ears. I watch the taillights of her vehicle bounce over the cemetery threshold, disappearing completely from sight, and with every inch of distance she puts between us, my heart shatters into a million jagged, irre
My throat locks up. I’ve seen Owen angry, I’ve seen him arrogant, and I’ve seen him lethal in a courtroom. But I have never seen him cry like this. "I am so sorry for leaving you in that jail cell, Sydney," he whispers again, his voice cracking completely now as he stares down at my lips. "I know n
The second Owen’s fingers touch the chrome handle of his sleek black sedan, I violently twist out of his reach. I yank myself away from his side, clutching the lapels of his oversized designer suit jacket against my chest like a shield. He freezes, his hand dropping from the door as he whips his he
My stomach completely drops. The press. The paparazzi who were banned from the main service have already spotted the commotion from the outer gates. Long, heavy camera lenses are already poking through the iron bars, the rapid, machine-gun clicking of shutters filling the air as they capture every
I’ve been pacing the length of the living room for what feels like an eternity, checking the time on my watch every thirty seconds as if I can intimidate the hands into moving backward. It’s well past dark, and Sydney is nowhere to be found. I’ve tried her phone. Six times. Ten times. I’ve lost cou
Did I arrive before everyone else? The silence in this house isn't the peaceful kind of quiet. It’s the heavy, suffocating silence of a tomb that’s been recently dusted. As I walk deeper into the mansion, my heels clicking rhythmically against the polished hardwood, I realize just how much of a mis
I’m nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee when one of the maids approaches, her eyes apologetic as she holds out a plain, cream-colored envelope. "This just arrived for you, Miss Sterling," she says softly. I take it, my fingers tracing the heavy cardstock. There’s no return address, no flashy logo—jus
My focus, or what’s left of it, is on Riley. He's darting across the grass, his small face lit up with a grin as I toss the ball, a soft, underhand lob. He catches it, giggles, and brings it back. "Again, Deckard! Again!" I throw it again and he runs to catch it and then throws it back. I throw it







