Alastair reached out, his fingers brushing hers as he took the key and unlocked the door for her.
“When was the last we were together?” he asked.
“The day you were called back to London—because your father was ill.”
She had told him this before, he was certain, but it held a new weight now. The day he was summoned. A decade ago. And he had never returned for her.
Again, the emptiness clawed at his chest. The more he uncovered, the more the gaps tormented him.
He had never believed in fate, but of all the places in London they could have left him to die, why had it been the alley behind her house?
His entire body ached with the need to know.
“When you brought me into your home, are you sure you didn’t recognize me?”
She hesitated before answering.
“I didn’t think I did. But now, I can’t help wondering if, on some level, part of me suspected. I just… I knew I couldn’t let you die.” Her voice softened. “I was desperate to keep you alive.”
She turned away from him, putting space between them, her arms wrapping around herself before she continued.
“I think I knew the moment you woke up. When I looked into your eyes.” A short, humorless laugh escaped her. “Seeing you without the beard only confirmed everything.”
Then, suddenly, she spun to face him, her eyes flashing, her voice sharp with old betrayal.
“Why didn’t you say goodbye?” Her throat bobbed, and she let out a slow, shuddering breath. “I thought I understood… but I deserved… something.”
Before he could answer, she shook her head. “Never mind. You don’t need to explain. I understand.”
But she didn’t.
“No. You don’t understand,” he said, his voice hoarse with frustration. “BecauseIdon’t understand. I don’t have the answers—to give you, or myself.” His hands curled into fists. “Didn’t I write to you? I would have written. I would have missed you—desperately.”
Daisy frowned. “I never received anything…”
A cold certainty settled over him. “Someone didn’t want us together.” His jaw clenched. “Your father?—?”
“None of this was my father’s fault.” She stared up at him defiantly. “Yes, he warned me away from you, but only because he feared for me, for our family, and he was right to do so.” She narrowed those captivating blue eyes at him. “It was your uncle who found us together. After you left, he made it clear to me that I was why we were turned off the estate.” She dropped her gaze and swallowed hard. “I was too ashamed to tell my father. And he blamed himself. For all of it.”
When she lifted her gaze again, this time, it was haunted and filled with guilt. “But I couldn’t tell him. Sometimes… I wonder if it would have changed anything. If I’d told him the truth, maybe he wouldn’t have spent his last years thinking he had failed. Maybe he wouldn’t have started drinking, sending himself into an early grave…”
Alastair stood frozen, his stomach twisting into knots.
Christ.
A decade ago, he had been so certain, so reckless in his belief that love alone would be enough. But now, standing before Daisy, hearing the raw pain in her voice, he saw the depth of his betrayal.
His uncle had sent her family away.
And Alastair—whether through blind trust or willful ignorance—had let it happen.
His throat closed, bile rising. “Daisy…” He reached for her, but she took a step back.
“I’ve lived with that guilt,” she said, her voice steady now, though her hands still trembled at her sides. “I can’t change the past. Neither can you.” She met his gaze, resolute. “What matters now is keeping you safe. Finding out why someone tried to kill you.”
And just like that, the conversation was back to the troubles at hand.
Alastair wasn’t sure he could move on so easily. But…
