It had been a week since the incident. The house had returned to its quiet rhythm with the clinking of dishes from the kitchen, the shuffle of brooms in the hall, and the soft hum of the gardeners outside tending to the hedges. And Ace had kept his word. 

Every morning. Every meal. Every time I stepped out for a walk in the garden, he was there. Today was no different. It was late afternoon, and the sun painted the world gold. Ace’s hand brushed against mine as we walked along the ...