The morning sun filtered through the gossamer curtains of Luna's suite, casting golden patterns across the Persian rug. She stood before the full-length mirror, her reflection a stranger in silk pajamas. The fairy-tale garden from the night before seemed like a dream now—Grayson's confession, their first real kiss, the promise of something genuine.

But Detective Roberts' words echoed in her mind like a death knell: Luna Winters. Missing for twenty years.

A soft knock interrupted her ...