Mag-log inTHALASSA'S POV:The invitation arrived in a sleek black envelope, hand delivered to my apartment by a courier who looked like he had stepped out of a spy movie. Inside was a card, heavy and expensive, with Alaric's handwriting on it."Gallery opening. Friday night. I know you hate parties, but this one will be different. I promise. Come with me. I want to show you something."I stared at the card for a long time. A gallery opening. His world. His people. The friends and colleagues and acquaintances he had built his life around. He was inviting me into that world, asking me to be seen with him, to be part of something that mattered to him.That was different. That was very different.The old me would have said no. The old me would have found a thousand reasons to stay home, to hide, to protect myself from the judgment and the stares and the uncomfortable questions. But the old me was gone. The new me was learning to say yes.I said yes.The gallery was in a part of the city I had never
CASSIAN'S POV:But I could not move. I could not speak. I could only stand there, listening, while my entire world crumbled around me."That is the thing about these rich families," Eulalie was saying. "They think they are so smart. They think they are so untouchable. But they are just as stupid as everyone else. They see a pretty face and they forget to ask what is underneath. It is almost too easy."I finally found my voice. "Is it?"Eulalie froze. Her head snapped toward the doorway, her eyes widening when she saw me standing there. The phone slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the couch cushions."Cassian," she said, and her voice was high and thin. "I did not hear you come in.""Clearly." I walked into the room, my legs finally working again. "Who were you talking to?""Just a friend. An old friend. We were just...""I heard everything, Eulalie. Everything."She stood up, her face pale. "You did not hear everything. You heard some things. Out of context. I was joking. It wa
CASSIAN'S POV:I was supposed to be in a meeting. That was the excuse I had given Eulalie when I left the house that morning. A meeting with the board, important business, do not wait up for dinner. All lies, of course. The meeting had been canceled hours ago, but I had not wanted to come home. I had not wanted to listen to Eulalie complain about the curtains or the silverware or the way the staff looked at her. I had not wanted to pretend that everything was fine when everything was clearly not fine.So I drove around the city for a while. I parked near the waterfront and looked at the development site that was no longer mine. I walked through a park and watched children play and thought about nothing at all. I sat in my car and stared at the steering wheel and tried to figure out how my life had gotten so far from where I wanted it to be.Eventually, I ran out of places to go. I drove home.The mansion was quiet when I walked in, which was unusual. Eulalie was usually somewhere maki
THALASSA'S POV:The message came through at 3:17 in the morning, which was always the time when the hardest cases found me. Something about the witching hour made doctors desperate. They had tried everything, exhausted every option, and now they were reaching out to a ghost in the machine, hoping that the mysterious Miracle Doctor would have answers when no one else did.I was deep in chapter twenty two of my manuscript when my encrypted phone buzzed. The notification was different from the usual ones, a specific pattern that meant the message had come through the highest level of the network. Someone important was reaching out. Someone who knew exactly who they were contacting and why.I saved my document and opened the message."Dr. Miravel. I hope this message finds you well. I am Dr. Marcus Webb, Chief of Surgery at St. Catherine's Hospital in London. I have a patient who is dying and I have run out of options. I am told you are the person to contact when all else fails. Please. I
THALASSA'S POV:I spent three days staring at the white card on my kitchen counter before I actually called him.Three days of picking it up, reading the number, putting it down again. Three days of telling myself I was being ridiculous. Three days of convincing myself that one coffee date did not mean anything, that I could handle it, that I was not going to let one interesting conversation at a party derail my carefully constructed new life.On the fourth day, I called.He answered on the second ring. "I was starting to think you would never call.""You were starting to think that after three days? Impatient.""Impatient, yes. Also hopeful. There is a difference."I smiled despite myself. "There is a coffee shop near me. Small place, not fancy. The coffee is terrible but the atmosphere is good.""Terrible coffee. That sounds perfect. When?"We met the next morning. I got there early, because I always got there early, and I sat in the corner booth with my laptop open in front of me,
CASSIAN'S POV:I was in my study, going over the quarterly reports, when James knocked on the door with that particular look on his face. The one that meant he had bad news and was trying to figure out how to deliver it without getting yelled at."Mr. Cassian," he said, "I have just received word about the waterfront development project."I looked up. The waterfront project was mine. It had been mine since before the accident, my baby, the thing I had been building toward for years. A massive mixed use development that would transform the entire district and make the Deveraux name synonymous with progress. I had been planning it, dreaming about it, working on it even when I was blind and could not see the blueprints."What about it?""The board has decided to go in a different direction." James's voice was carefully neutral. "They have awarded the contract to another firm."I stood up so fast my chair scraped against the floor. "What? That is impossible. The contract was mine. Everyon
3RD POV:The party was winding down. The crowd was thinning. Alaric realized he had been standing here for hours, talking to this woman, and he did not want to leave.But the room was emptying around them, waiters starting to clear glasses, the hostess making her rounds to thank people for coming.
3RD POV:Alaric Deveraux had been to exactly one book launch in his entire life, and he had sworn he would never attend another. The wine was always warm, the conversations always pretentious, and everyone spent the whole night trying to prove they were smarter than everyone else in the room. It wa
THALASSA'S POV: The invitation had arrived three weeks ago, printed on thick cream card stock with gold lettering. Julian Thorne's book launch. The event of the season, according to every literary magazine and gossip column in the city. Everyone who was anyone in the publishing world would be ther
3RD POV:Eulalie Ashworth had been living in the Deveraux mansion for three weeks and Cassian was already exhausted.He had imagined this differently. In his head, the days after the divorce would be golden. He would wake up next to a beautiful woman, drink coffee on the terrace, and feel the weigh







