Chapter 8

Stepping into the crisp morning air, I found Castro waiting – a portrait of calculated perfection in his bespoke Tom Ford suit, the one that had always made my heart skip.

A cascade of ivory roses trembled slightly in his grip, betraying the tension beneath his polished facade.

“Aveline, look,” his voice cracked with practiced remorse, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. That day… I was completely out of line. Raising my hand to you…”

presence makes you

“Oriana is just…” he swallowed hard, “history. A closed chapter. If her presence uncomfortable, I’ll cut all ties. Just say the word.”

I studied him, wondering what game he was playing. His devotion to Oriana had been obvious to anyone with eyes.

Now that she was back, why chase me across an ocean instead of embracing his happy ending?

Interpreting my silence as hesitation, he pulled out a Cartier red leather box and dropped to one knee.

“Let me spend forever making it up to you,” he breathed, his voice taking on that honeyed tone that had once convinced me of anything.

“Marry me. From now on, there will only be room for you in my life.”

The rare pink diamond in the box sparkled – a scene I’d dreamed of countless times. Thank God he’d never given it before.

I reached out slowly, watching hope bloom in his eyes before I snapped the box shut with a decisive click.

thought you were honorable and exceptional. Instead, I found a skilled liar who wears masks like second

as a placeholder, and felt no remorse.

someone like that?”

drained from his face, but no defense came to his lips.

hit him like physical blows. “To someone

Chapter 8

eyes

deeply. He’s not only handsome but genuinely kind, engaging, and most importantly- a man

contact me

petals scattering like snow as he lunged forward, fingers circling my wrists with desperate

“Aveline, please…”

a

couldn’t eat or sleep. Christ, I was so desperate I found

“Seven years together. All those mornings waking up

years, who were you really seeing? When

grip, disgust rising like

suits, the Hermès scarves, the Cartier jewels–none. of them had

transform me into Oriana’s mirror image.

much for looking like her naturally. He’d just methodically molded me into her image, piece by piece.

only to be steadied by strong hands. Alexander’s presence wrapped around me like a protective shield, his aristocratic features set in

a whiff

looked at me. “Long enough to witness

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