“Vaughn…”
“I don’t have time, Dad. If I must burn Chicago to the ground to get him back, I will.”
“It’s too late.”
My fingers tighten on the phone as my body shakes. “W-what?”
“The marriage alliance between Chicago and Boston already happened. Just come home, okay? Let’s think this through.”
My hand with the phone falls to my side as his words slam into me like a bullet to the chest.
It’s already happened.
Yulian said his vows to someone who isn’t me.
I’m too late.
Just like four years ago, I missed the timeline.
I’m trapped in a parallel world that never crosses with his.
Again.
I lost him.
Again.
No. No.
Fuckno.
A universe where he belongs to someone else doesn’t fucking exist.
Half an hour later,I’m standing in front of the grand gate of the Dimitriev mansion.
Yes, this is suicidal, but I don’t give a fuck.
They can shoot me, bury me alive, but I’ll still come for him.
I stand tall, my hand holding my gun at my side, waiting for the guards to come at me.
The gate creaks open, and suspicion twists in my gut, but I step through anyway, my heart hollow since Dad gave me the news.
No guards wait inside—strange. I move down the long driveway, my breath rough, edging toward a pant.
I still can’t get proper air into my lungs.
Is this a panic attack?
A life crisis?
Otherwise, why would someone as healthy as I am struggle to breathe?
I always thought I’d be the one to hurt him, but he’s the one who shattered my heart to pieces and stomped all over it.
My feet drag slowly on the concrete until they come to a halt.
For a heartbeat, I think it’s a hallucination. But then the figure rushes nearer—hair wild, shirt untucked against dark suit pants, movement so achingly familiar.
