INICIAR SESIÓNMichael’s POVBy the time the last of the floodwater was pushed out and the floors no longer reflected the ceiling lights like a sad indoor lake, the storm had quieted to nothing more than a soft drizzle.The café was a mess—chairs stacked haphazardly, towels everywhere, a mop graveyard in the corner—but Colette… she was smiling. A real one. The kind that made her eyes glow again.Her staff—exhausted but relieved—brought over mugs of steaming coffee for everyone. The scent of roasted beans wrapped around us, grounding, warm.I accepted mine and took a long sip. “Well,” I muttered, looking around the wrecked café, “gourmet coffee in the middle of a disaster zone while it’s still raining outside.”I raised my mug. “Just perfect.”Colette snorted, bumping my shoulder lightly with hers. “Right? This is exactly the ambiance I was going for. Very… post-apocalyptic chic.”I grinned. “I’m giving it a five-star review.”She rolled her eyes but laughed, finally relaxing into the chair beside m
Nico’s POVI was up before dawn like some motivated farm boy. If anyone had told me I’d do that voluntarily, I’d have punched them for lying.But yeah, I did it. And I was actually looking forward to working today at the ranch. Fuck. What’s happening to me?Yet there was a stupid grin on my face as I got ready. Today we were scheduled to begin the preparations, and for some reason, I was actually excited. Ever since Martha and Old Man Briggs made the big announcement about opening the ranch to guests, people around here have been… different. Fired up. Hungry. Maybe because absolutely nothing ever happened on this dusty land, and the idea of new people showing up felt like someone cracked a window open. Plus—bigger paychecks, bonuses if business booms… yeah, that’ll motivate anyone. So now everyone’s expected to pull their weight.Everyone had gathered around the fire pit last night while Briggs stood like some grizzled prophet, his husky voice echoing across the property.“We’ll o
Michael’s POVWater rushed across the street in swift, swirling streams, pooling at the café entrance. The blue awning thrashed in the wind like it was barely hanging on. Inside, lights flickered against fogged-up windows.I slammed the car door and splashed toward the entrance—ankle-deep water soaking straight through my shoes.“Colette!” I shouted over the storm.The door burst open and Colette appeared, drenched, hair stuck to her cheeks, clutching a broom like she intended to fight the ocean itself.“Michael!” she gasped. “Why on earth are you here?!”Inside, two staff members were sweeping water toward the back, their faces tight with panic. Another stood on a chair, trying to unplug appliances before the water reached the outlets.Colette rushed toward me, nearly slipping. “The drainage outside clogged—water’s overflowing into the café. If it reaches the ovens or fridges, we lose everything.”Her voice wavered. Just barely.“I’m here to help,” I said, stepping inside without hes
Michael’s POVThe storm started before sunrise—low grumbles rolling across the hills, dark clouds smothering the sky until Provence looked bruised and restless. Rain slapped against the windows in sharp bursts, the kind that made you want to curl up and stay inside all day.I was headed toward the living room when I heard Celeste’s voice—quiet, uneasy.“I don’t know, Harper… maybe it’s just paranoia. But yesterday, at the square… I felt like someone was watching me.”I froze in the hallway.Harper lowered her voice. “Do you think it’s Theo’s… I don’t know… issues? Or maybe Genevieve—?”“Well… It could be…” A protective heat surged in my chest. Damn it. She just rebuilt her life. She just started breathing again.The last thing she needed was fear creeping back into her.I stepped into the room casually, pretending I hadn’t heard the entire conversation. “You two whispering like that is scarier than the thunder,” I joked lightly.Celeste smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.That deci
Celeste’s POVAuntie Eleanor reached for the photo with trembling fingers, tracing the outlines of the clean white walls, the new windows, the blooming courtyard. Rosehill—reborn. Not haunted. Not broken. Not forgotten.“It’s… it’s real?” she whispered, voice cracking.I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yes. It’s real. It’s ours. Damien… he rebuilt it. For us.”Tears spilled down her cheeks—soft, grateful tears that made something inside me unravel completely.“I never thought…” She pressed a hand to her heart. “Never, in all my dreams… that someone would give this back to us.”I hugged her, burying my face against her shoulder as tears blurred my vision. “It’s because of you. You kept the heart of Rosehill alive. Damien just… gave it a body again.”She laughed through her tears, shaking her head. “No, dear. He did it because of you.”My heart squeezed. Hard.After a while, I stepped out onto the terrace, the early sun warm on my skin, and dialed his number before I could ov
Alain’s POVThe metal door groaned upward, dust drifting into the dim space like a sigh long held.For a moment, I didn’t move.This wasn’t what I expected.Not even close.Instead of crates of money or stolen jewelry or something incriminating, the storage unit was painfully neat. Organized.I opened the first box.Hospital records. Tarnished birth certificates. Forms filled out in rushed handwriting.I read the names and my breath stilled.Her parents… weren’t anyone. Just two impoverished young people from a run-down district outside Marseille. No power, no wealth, no legacy. Her mother struggled with addiction; her father drifted between unstable jobs. Both dead now.I whispered to myself, “So this is what you found… and hated.”More papers lay beneath—child protective services reports. Notes from social workers describing neglect, instability, abandonment.One page had Genevieve’s handwriting scrawled across it:“Nobody wanted me.” “Trash blood.” “I deserve more than this.”I r







