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Chapter 158

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Richard didn’t move after he said her name. He stood there as if giving her room to walk away if she wanted to, even though every line in his body leaned subtly toward her—toward closeness, toward confession.

Monet wiped her hands on a towel, suddenly aware of the trembling in her fingers. She wasn’t sure if it was from exhaustion or from the way he was looking at her, like she was the anchor he’d been gripping all day.

“All right,” she whispered. “Explain.”

His jaw flexed. He nodded once, slow, thoughtful. Then he reached past her to switch off the running faucet, as if even small sounds would get in the way of what he needed to say.

“Mara… meant something to me,” he began quietly. “Not romantically. Not the way you think. But she was—” He inhaled shakily. “She was a lifeline.”

Monet swallowed, heart thudding.

Richard continued, “When Hannah died, everything around me collapsed. I wasn’t sleeping. I wasn’t eating. I was barely holding myself upright. And Mara… she stepped in. She han
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    Richard didn’t answer right away, he tensed but didn't say anything. That, more than anything, told Monet he was taking her seriously.He shifted slightly, angling his body toward hers, one arm resting along the back of the chair, not trapping her, just close enough that she could feel his warmth if she chose to lean in again.“That makes sense,” he said finally.She turned to look at him. “It does doesn't it?”“Yes,” he said quietly. “Because both instincts are about the same thing.”“Which is?”“Self-preservation.” The word landed gently, but it struck deep.Richard reached for her hand, threading their fingers together slowly, as if giving her time to pull away if she needed to. She didn’t.“When you were a child,” he continued, “you learned that knowing the truth didn’t always come with safety. Sometimes it came with loss. So part of you learned to survive by letting go before things could be taken from you.”Monet’s throat tightened. “And the other part?” she asked.“The part th

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