The restaurant was everything Bella loved about evenings with Jackson. It was intimate, warm, filled with the soft murmur of other diners and the gentle clink of glasses. Candlelight flickered between them, casting golden shadows across his face, making him look almost ethereal. Alive. Real.Their orders had arrived twenty minutes ago. Jackson had worked through half his steak with the focused appreciation he brought to everything. Bella's pasta sat before her, barely touched, the sauce congealing around the edges.Jackson set down his fork. He studied her for a long moment, his dark eyes seeing more than she wanted him to see."Bella."She looked up, startled from her thoughts. "Hmm?"He gestured at her plate with a slight tilt of his chin. "You haven't touched your food. Not really. You've moved it around, pushed a few noodles from one side to the other, but you haven't eaten." His voice was gentle, but insistent. "What's going on?"Bella forced a smile, picking up her fork. "I'm f

Elara stood motionless, absorbing the blow. Her face, carefully composed for so many years, cracked just slightly—a flicker of pain, quickly masked."Ruth," she began, her voice soft, almost pleading."I mean it." Ruth's voice didn't waver. "I don't care about your regrets. I don't care about your guilt. I don't care about whatever brought you here today. Philip is gone. Jacqueline is grown. Jackson has his own life. And I—" She paused, her jaw tightening. "I have finally found a measure of peace. I won't let you shatter it."Elara took a step closer, then stopped, respecting the invisible boundary Ruth had drawn. "I'm not here to shatter anything. I'm here because—""Because you're alone." Ruth's laugh was bitter, hollow. "Because Celestine left you. Because the daughter you raised in the shadows of your schemes finally saw the truth. And now you have no one."Elara's composure crumbled further. Her eyes glistened, but she didn't look away. "You're right. Celestine is gone. I don't k

Bella's question hung in the air between them, charged with possibility and fear. Jackson wanted to dismiss it, to wrap her in reassurance and let the matter drop. But something in her eyes, that desperate need for certainty, made him pause."I can't explain your dream, Bella," he said finally. "But I can help you look. If it'll give you peace, we'll find out together."Bella's face lit with grateful surprise. "You mean it?"Jackson nodded, already regretting the can of worms he might be opening. "I mean it. But if we don't find anything, if this Miles doesn't exist, you have to promise me you'll let it go. At least for a while."Bella threw her arms around him. "Thank you. Thank you, Jackson."He held her, hoping he hadn't just made a terrible mistake.***The next morning, Bella was already at her laptop when Jackson arrived at her apartment with coffee. She'd been up for hours, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, dark circles under her eyes."Look at this," she said, not even

Jackson's eyes continued to roam the walls, taking in the countless faces that Miles had committed to canvas. There was something haunting about each one, a depth, a knowing, as if the subjects themselves were aware of being watched from within the paint.And then he saw it.Tucked in a corner, partially hidden behind a larger canvas, was a sketch. Not a finished painting like the others, but a charcoal drawing. The face it depicted stopped Jackson cold.Jacqueline.Not a likeness. Not a resemblance. It was her—the exact curve of her jaw, the way her dark hair fell, the particular light in her eyes that he had come to know so well. It was Jacqueline, captured in intimate detail by an artist who had never met her.Jackson crossed the room, his hand reaching for the sketch but stopping just short of touching it. "That's Jacqueline," he breathed. "My sister. But how—"Miles appeared at his side, his ancient eyes studying the drawing with something like fondness. "Like I told you not quit

Jackson's car wound through the quiet streets toward the edge of town. Andrew drove, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, while James navigated from the passenger seat. Jackson sat in the back, staring out the window, his mind churning with everything that lay ahead."This is it," Andrew said, pulling to a stop in front of Elara's.Jackson stepped out, James and Andrew following. Arriving at the entrance door, Jackson knocked.There was a long pause. Then the door creaked open, revealing Elara in a worn bathrobe, her hair uncombed, her eyes red-rimmed and hollow. She stared at them, confusion flickering across her features.This was nothing like the Elara that Jackson and his friends knew. She wasn't looking anything like the woman who could command board rooms and even the men of the underworld would flinch.The woman standing before them was a shadow of her old self—one who was only going by not because three was any more reason for her to keep going but because somewhere she