The first morning in the Kingston mansion broke under a dull, gray sky. Light filtered through the curtains like a whisper, muted and overcast—an echo of the storm still churning inside Eliana. She stirred at the distant chime of a bell, signaling breakfast. Pressing a hand to her temple, she sat up slowly, heavy with the weight of too many memories resurfacing all at once. The hallway floor was cool beneath her bare feet. Just beyond the doorway, she heard a small shuffle of steps, then a soft voice.

“Ellie?” Micah peeked in, still wrapped in the fog of sleep. “Breakfast?” She managed a faint smile and nodded, letting him slip into the room. Together, they walked down the long corridor, passing the quiet movement of staff who flowed around them like shadows. One handed Micah a bowl of cereal without a word, while another offered a silver tray at Eliana’s door. But Skylar was nowhere to be found. Not until half an hour later, when she finally entered the breakfast room—and stopped cold. At her place sat a white porcelain cup, steam curling upward in slow spirals. The scent hit her first—dark roast, smooth, rich. Her favorite. No cream. No sugar. Just how she’d always liked it. And yet she’d never told him. Beside the cup sat a note, scrawled in sharp, familiar handwriting.

For Eliana- hope you like it.

Her pulse skipped twice. The gesture was subtle, quiet, but it landed like a thunderclap. A stranger shouldn’t have known this, but he did. Micah, cheerful and unfazed, lifted his spoon. “He likes blueberries in his cereal too,” he offered, as if they’d already bonded over breakfast preferences. Eliana glanced up just as Skylar entered. He was dressed in a soft gray sweater, unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up. The casual look made him seem... human. His hair was slightly tousled, his expression more open than usual. “Good morning,” he said, voice quiet but certain. “Morning,” she replied, her throat tight. He poured coffee from a silver pot and sat across from her, watching her stir the cup he’d left. “Did you sleep well?” “Fine,” she answered, though the word landed flat. It was a lie. They both knew it. He didn’t press her. But a few minutes later, over the sound of clinking silverware, his voice dropped. “Last night… you weren’t just in my study.” He paused, then added more gently, “You disappeared from your room at midnight. Security caught it.” Color rushed to her cheeks. “I couldn’t sleep.” His eyes flicked up, something unreadable moving behind them. “Don’t wander alone. Not here. It’s not safe.” There was something protective in his tone. Not controlling. Not cruel. Just... concerned. The kind of concern she hadn’t seen from him in a long time, if ever. Micah, blissfully unaware, munched happily beside them. Eliana reached out and brushed his curls back. When she looked up again, Skylar was watching her with a softness that unsettled her more than his coldest glare. Later, she brought Micah to the playroom, where he immediately made a beeline for a stack of new building blocks. She lingered by the doorway, arms folded across her chest, as he settled into his quiet joy. Skylar appeared beside her, leaning casually against the frame. “I saw how you looked at him,” he said quietly.

She turned slightly. “He’s a good kid.” “He is.” His hand moved toward hers for a moment, hesitant, as if testing the space between them. She pulled back instinctively. He noticed, drawing his hand away. “Sorry.” “No—it’s okay,” she murmured, clearing her throat. For a moment, silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t awkward. It was heavy with things unspoken. She wasn’t ready to say them. That afternoon, Eliana worked from the edge of his home office, organizing his calendar and sorting paperwork. At one point, her elbow brushed a stack of contracts, sending them sliding across the polished desk and onto the floor in a flutter of glossy pages. Before she could gather them, his voice snapped from the doorway. “That’s the third time today.” Skylar stood with his arms folded, the image of authority. She straightened. “I’m sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve done this kind of work.” He stepped into the room and knelt to retrieve a page, smoothing it between his fingers. “These aren’t just forms. They’re deals worth millions. Losing one could be a disaster.” “I understand,” she said, trying to hide the rising heat in her cheeks.

He studied her for a long moment, then carefully aligned the stack and set it back in place. “Good. Because you’re not here to fail.” She didn’t respond. But his words echoed through her. You’re not here to fail.

It wasn’t a threat. It was... a reminder. The rest of the morning passed in a haze of emails, schedules, and to-do lists. Skylar moved between his meetings with ease, but every now and then, he would pause to check on her. Replacing her empty notebook. Adjusting her chair when he noticed her posture. Watching her with something almost like fear—as if afraid she might vanish again. At lunch, he invited her to join him in the glass-walled dining suite. The skyline of Central Park stretched beyond the windows, bathed in golden light. She hesitated at first, but when he handed her a plate, pan-seared salmon, lemon zest, and a touch of garlic, her heart skipped a beat. She stared at it and was surprised how he knew her preference when it came to salmon. “H- how did you know?” “Know what?”. Skylar said in a puzzle tone. All he knew was that his late Elora loved this particular dish. And he was trying to console himself by seeing Eliana consume it. And it was too much,too precise, too familiar. He was also baffled that she also loved her salmon prepared that way. She took a bite and almost cried. It was exactly right. Later, she returned to the playroom, where Micah was building a tower of blocks. He looked up when she entered, his eyes lighting up. “Ellie, look. I made it taller this time.” She knelt beside him, watching his small fingers stack the final piece. “Tell me the story again,” he whispered, quieter now. “about the queen of flashbacks.” She stiffened for a while and looked at him gently. “Some stories are too hard to tell, baby.” “But you always tell good ones.” “Maybe later,” she said, brushing a curl away from his eyes. His tiny hand brushed her cheek. The softness in his gesture broke something loose in her chest. It wasn’t just care—it was recognition. He knew, he just didn’t know how. Heading back to the office, she turned a corner and nearly ran into Skylar. He caught her before she could stumble, his hand at her elbow. “Be careful,” he murmured, his voice lighter now. She nodded, stepping past him, but her elbow clipped a vase resting on the hallway console. The porcelain wobbled, then crashed to the marble floor in a sharp, echoing shatter. Water and lilies spilled everywhere. “I’m so sorry—” she dropped to the floor, frantically gathering shards. Her fingers trembled. Skylar knelt beside her, his hand brushing hers as they both reached for a petal.

The moment they touched, something snapped.

A flash—bright and blinding. A white lace, a diamond ring on her hand. His voice, saying vows, her laugh and his touch. She gasped and the memory hit like a fist. Her vision blurred and the room spun. She clutched her chest as her knees buckled. “Eliana?” Skylar’s voice echoed from far away. “Eliana—”.