I start running toward the water.
Running through sand is harder than I imagined, but I push through. When I reach wet sand. I roll up my jeans before stepping into the cool water. It laps around my ankles and the sound of the waves soothes me.
My eyes stare out into the water. The wind kisses my face.
Fear and awe tangle together. I feel small, but not in a way that makes me want to disappear. More of the vastness of the unknown. What life is about to bring. With each crash of the waves washing over my feet, a piece of the darkness loosens its grip.
Lucian walks up beside me.
“You know, I made myself a promise that as soon as I found you, I’d bring you here.” Lucian smiles out at the water.
“Here we are.” I smile up at him.
“My mom always brought me to the beach as a kid too. And eventually I’d come on my own and let the waves take my worries away. Let it quiet my mind.”
“I can see why.” I stare back out at the waves.
We stand there for a moment, the ocean filling the silence between us. I try to picture him younger, before the power he must have now as a CEO, the responsibility. Just a boy with sand between his toes and salt in his hair.
“It’s strange,” he says, his voice low, “being here with you now. I never thought I’d get the chance. I never gave up, but it was hard to hold onto the hope as time went on.”
I look up at him. The hard lines of his face soften.
“I understand that. I learned that hope can be a dangerous thing to hold onto. It can hurt as much as it can heal.”
He nods.
“I missed so much,” he whispers.
“I did too.” My voice breaks, but I don’t look away.
“I’m just so happy you’re here now.” Lucian smiles squeezing my shoulder gently. “We’ll make new memories.”
As another wave rolls in, I let myself believe him.
7 ASHTHORNE HALL
The car slows as the wrought-iron gates open. Ashthorne Hall sits beyond them like something out of a movie. Grand and old, with ivy clinging to the stone columns. The gravel drive winds in a perfect curve around a fountain that’s taller than the car.
I glance at Lucian, who’s watching my face.
“Welcome home.”
The car stops, and before I can move, someone’s already opening my door. A man in a suit offers his hand.
The gravel crunches under my boots. The air smells like rain and roses and money.
Lucian steps out beside me. “You don’t have to be nervous.”
“I’m not nervous,” I lie.
He gives me a look but doesn’t call me on it. Just gestures toward the wide front doors, which swing open as we approach.
Inside, the foyer is all marble floors, vaulted ceilings, and golden light pouring in through stained glass.A chandelier sparkles above us like a constellation frozen in crystal. My reflection follows me in the polished floor—oversized hoodie, scuffed shoes, hair in a messy braid. I look like a stray.
“Isobel,” Lucian says softly, stepping closer. “This is your home.”
I swallow hard. “It feels like a museum.”
