phin

rther into his orbit. He possessed an intellect that challenged and intrigued me, a quiet strength that offered an unexpected sense of security, and

able credentials. They saw him as a stable, reliable partner, the kind of man who would ensure my future and, more importantly, secure the company's inheritance. They had no ide

worn leather-bound book. It depicted a group of children playing in a park. My younger self, a gap-toothed grin on my face, was standing next

is left eyebrow, a detail I vaguely remembered noticing on Damon during one of our dinners. The realizat

lling, scraped knees, and a fierce little girl stepping in front of him, her small fists

hing? If he remembered me, why maintain this carefully constructed façade of a recent a

ves. "Seraphina," he said, his tone warm. "I was hoping we could have

on washing over me. Was he finally going to reveal whatever secrets he was ke

traying none of the turmoil churning

recall and a present shrouded in shadows. I knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that tomorrow night would bring more than just dinner. It would bring answers, and

on

ruth. Each shared smile, each engaging conversation, tightened the knot of guilt in my stomach. I was falling fo

ry. The lunch was a calculated risk, a step towards normalcy that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. The ease

ogether the fragments of her past. The urgency to reveal my truth, on my own terms, had become paramount. The

the truth, or at least, the carefully controlled version I could bring myself to share. I needed to gauge her react

e we could speak privately. My carefully constructed walls felt increasingly fragile, threat

ed so fiercely, was still a part of me. He was the foundation of my unwavering devotion to her. But the man I had become, the one who operated in the shadows, was a dangerous complication