INICIAR SESIÓNNathaniel's POV "I mean, it's not like I'm planning this for tomorrow or trying to put any pressure on you," Annie said, her words coming out in a slightly nervous rhythm. "But I think these things need to be clear early on. So we know… whether we're on the same page." She was staring down at the garden beneath the terrace, deliberately avoiding my eyes in a way that told me just how much this conversation mattered to her. "Of course I want kids," I replied immediately, my heart warming at the future I'd already imagined countless times with Annie by my side. Annie wrapped her arms around me with a force that caught me off guard. Her relief was almost tangible in the intensity of her embrace. I felt her arms tighten around my neck, her body finally relaxing against mine in a way that told me she'd been carrying far more tension about this than she'd let on. But I knew I had to be honest with her. Even if it meant potentially shattering the perfect moment we were sharing on th
"What do you mean, disappeared?" Nate asked, his voice edged with growing irritation. A bitter, ironic laugh slipped out of me, echoing through the cold, sterile room at the precinct. The situation was so absurdly predictable it almost felt laughable. if it weren't so infuriating. "With money and influence," I replied, my voice dripping with a cynicism I barely recognized in myself. "I've seen this happen before. And the culprit was a corrupt, criminal Kensington then, too." Richardson continued his explanation with the professional patience of someone who had handled cases like this more times than he cared to count. "System failure, according to the hotel," he said, unmistakable skepticism woven into every word. "Data corruption during the exact hours that matter. The footage from before and after is perfectly intact, but the recordings from the time you were in the room and when James was arrested, simply no longer exist." "That can't be a coincidence," Nate said, his voic
The call came two days after the improvised party at Nate's house. We were having coffee together in the kitchen, talking through the apartments we were going to tour. He'd scheduled five different options in neighborhoods he thought I'd love. Suddenly, Nate's phone rang, the precinct's number flashing on the screen. "We need you to come in again for a few clarifications," Detective Thompson said on the other end, his tone professional but not urgent. "Routine matters. Fact-checking. Verifying a few details from the statements. Nothing too complicated, but it's necessary for the case." My stomach tightened instantly, like someone had cinched a hard knot right in the center of my abdomen. The breakfast I'd been enjoying seconds earlier suddenly lost all flavor, my mouth going dry. I'd thought the hardest part was over. I'd thought I could finally start processing the trauma in peace, at my own pace, without being forced to relive the most disturbing details of that terrible night.
Before I could say anything else, Nate pulled me into a tight hug, lifting me slightly off the floor as he celebrated my answer. I felt his strong arms around my waist, his laughter vibrating against my chest in a way that made me completely melt. "I'd already mentally prepared an entire persuasion speech," he said near my ear, his voice full of relief and happiness. "Logical arguments about financial practicality, emotional appeals about how amazing it would be to wake up together every day, maybe even a presentation with charts showing the projected increase in our happiness." I laughed out loud, picturing Nate in full executive mode, creating detailed slides about the statistical benefits of living together, complete with upward-trending happiness graphs. "I don't doubt it for a second," I said, still in his arms, savoring the sense of safety he always gave me. "And since I know I'd stand absolutely no chance against a well-structured presentation from the COO of Kensington Eu
Dinner turned out to be exactly what I needed. It was chaotic, loud, and overflowing with love. Nate's large dining table had more than enough room for all nine of us, yet everyone chose to sit close together anyway, creating an intimate, cozy atmosphere. Pizza boxes covered the center of the table alongside open bottles of wine, plates with leftovers from the Valentian appetizers Nate had ordered, and half-full glasses that were constantly being refilled. Conversations overlapped in a familiar symphony of animated voices. Matthew was in the middle of a hilarious story about a cultural misunderstanding he'd experienced in the Imperial City, gesturing so wildly he nearly knocked over his wine glass twice. Oliver and Sarah were laughing to the point of tears at something Christian had said about the quirks of doing business in Verdania. Zoey and Gwen were whispering about some piece of gossip that almost certainly involved someone from Valentian high society. Tori was completely in h
Nathaniel's POV The winter garden in my house was my favorite refuge during London's colder months. The glass walls offered a stunning view of the outside garden, even when the weather didn't allow us to actually enjoy it. That night, the soft lighting created an intimate, welcoming atmosphere, a sharp contrast to the lively laughter drifting in from the main living room where everyone else had gathered. Christian and I had naturally drifted away from the group, wine glasses in hand, looking for a quiet moment to talk. It was rare for us to spend time together simply as friends, without the weight of professional responsibilities that usually shaped our interactions. I settled into one of the comfortable wicker chairs, watching as Christian took a seat across from me at the small coffee table where he set down his glass. For a few minutes, we sat in companionable silence, enjoying the calm and the muted hum of conversation coming from inside the house. "When you think back to o







