casual appearance. She stayed in the blind spot of the main gate's cameras

p, rocky cliff overlooking the ocean. The security was lighter here, the assumpti

high-grip climbing gloves and a compact grappling

th a faint whistle, catching with a muffled thump as the claws bit into the wood of a

d silent. She reached the top of the wall, swung a leg over, and dropped to the grass on

began walking toward her mother's plot, he

ound the mournful cry of gulls and the wh

t slab of white marble. It was immaculate, as if someone had rec

other's favorite. Besides her, who else

pproach, her sen

ck wheelchair. Even seated, his frame was imposing-broad shoulders, a straight b

espectful distance, their prese

an who had booked the ent

the man in the wheelchair, separated by a few feet of manicured gr

n. Minutes passed. The man didn't move. He seemed

inel. She wasn't here to confront him

of her dark hair across her face. She

ovement bro

ered the wheelchair with a quiet, elect

s gaze witho

, as if he hadn't seen the sun in years. And his eyes... they were the deepest, darkest blue she had ever s

as Fitzgeral

wind-tousled hair. There was no surprise in his expression,

heart beating a slow, steady rhythm. Her training

er for the unnerving stillness of

in a wheelchair and a woman who had just scaled a twelve-foot wal