LOGIN"Welcome home, Aurora."
The words rang in Selene's ears as she stood frozen in the hallway.
Aurora. She knew that name. She'd spent three years trying not to think about it, and here it was, hanging in the air like it had never left. Slowly, she tightened her grip on her handbag. The tiny baby shoes inside suddenly felt like a cruel joke.
She made herself move.
The closer she got to the living room, the louder the voices became. A servant hurried past her carrying a tray of drinks. It didn't feel like a family gathering, it felt like a celebration.
When she reached the doorway, she stopped.
The room was packed. Vance family members filled the sitting area, along with Damien's cousins. And at the center of all of it sat a woman Selene didn't need to be introduced to.
Aurora moon.
The woman Damien had loved before he married her. The woman who had vanished three years ago without a word. The woman he had never forgotten.
She was beautiful. Long silver-blonde hair, bright eyes, an easy confidence that made her look like she'd never left. Like she belonged there.
Nobody noticed Selene in the doorway. They were all too focused on Aurora, who was in the middle of telling a story.
"I honestly thought I would never make it back," Aurora said with a soft laugh.
Damien's aunt immediately reached for her hand. "Oh, sweetheart, you've suffered enough."
"I was lucky to survive," Aurora said.
"You're home now. That's all that matters." A chorus of agreement followed.
Then Selene's eyes found Damien, and the sight hit her harder than she expected.
He was smiling. Not the polite smile he gave guests, not the faint one he occasionally gave his grandmother. A real warm smile. The kind of smile she had spent three years hoping to see directed at her. Aurora laughed at something, and Damien chuckled in response, and the familiarity between them was impossible to ignore. It was like no time had passed at all.
Something sharp twisted in Selene's chest.
Then one of the servants noticed her. "Mrs. Vance is here."
The room went quiet. Every head turned. Aurora's eyes landed on Selene and she blinked. Surprise first, then curiosity, then something else Selene couldn't read.
Damien turned too. Their eyes met, and Selene waited. Waited for him to smile, to walk over, to acknowledge that his wife had just come home.
Instead, he just looked at her. Then he turned back to Aurora. "Continue," he said.
The word landed like a slap.
Nobody spoke. The awkwardness was thick enough to choke on. It was Aurora who finally broke the silence, rising from her seat and glancing toward Selene.
"Damien," she said quietly. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"
Several family members exchanged uncomfortable looks. Everyone in that room knew exactly who both women were.
Damien was silent for a moment. Then, "Aurora, this is Selene."
Just Selene. Not my wife, not Mrs. Vance Just Selene, like she was someone he'd met in passing.
Aurora raised her brows slightly, then smiled. "Oh." Her eyes moved over Selene — not rudely, but enough to make Selene feel like she was being measured against something. "So this is Selene."
She stepped forward. "It's nice to finally meet you."
Selene made herself nod. "You too."
Aurora tilted her head. "Damien mentioned you once."
Mentioned. like Selene was a small detail he'd brought up briefly and moved on from.
Before she could respond, Damien's cousin Ethan cleared his throat. "Selene just got home. She should sit down."
"Yes, of course," Aurora agreed, looking genuinely apologetic. Or at least good at appearing that way — Selene honestly couldn't tell.
She moved toward an empty chair. The only one available was directly across from Damien and Aurora. As she sat down, her fingers brushed the envelope inside her handbag. The pregnancy report. A few hours ago she'd been so excited to hand it to him. Now she wasn't sure she wanted to.
Conversation slowly picked back up, and most of it centered on Aurora — where she'd been, what she'd survived, how she'd made it back. Everyone listened closely, Damien most of all. Selene sat quietly and watched.
At one point Aurora said, "Do you remember that camping trip near Silver Lake?"
Damien nodded right away. "How could I forget?"
Aurora groaned. "You got lost for two hours."
"You gave me the wrong directions."
"I was twelve!"
"You were still wrong."
The room filled with laughter. Selene looked down at her hands. She had nothing to add. She hadn't been there. She didn't know that version of Damien — the relaxed one, the playful one, the one who laughed easily. Selene had spent three years married to him and somehow never met him at all.
A servant came in with refreshments. As cups were handed around, Aurora reached for the sugar bowl at the same moment Damien did. Without even glancing at her, he passed it to her. The movement was automatic, the kind of habit built over years.
Aurora smiled. "You still remember."
"Some things don't change," he said simply.
Selene felt something settle in her stomach — not quite jealousy, but something heavier. Understanding, maybe. Because sitting there watching them, it became clear to her. Aurora had never really left this house. Not in the ways that mattered. She'd stayed behind in Damien's memories, in the empty spaces of his life. And now she was back to fill them.
The room felt too warm suddenly. Too crowded.
Selene stood quietly. "Excuse me."
A few people looked over. Aurora's brow creased with concern. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. It's been a long day."
"You should rest," Aurora said, nodding sympathetically.
She sounded like she meant it. Somehow that made it worse. Selene could have handled hostility — she'd have known what to do with it. But genuine kindness left her with no place to put any of what she was feeling.
She turned to leave.
"Wait."
Aurora's voice stopped her. The room went quiet again.
Aurora smiled, soft and almost gentle, and then asked the question that made every single person in the room tense up.
"You must be the replacement they found for me?
The words made everyone stiff. Nobody moved nor said a word.
And for the first time since she'd walked into that room, Damien looked directly at Selene.
"A recent photo," Richard said again, jaw tight. "In case something happens to you. For the memorial portrait." Charles almost laughed. Cursing him the second they were in the same room. Classic. "Not necessary," he said, voice flat and unbothered. "I'll stay alive. Just for you, old man. Otherwise nobody in this family's got the guts to pull the plug when the time comes — you'll still need me around for that." Richard's face went from red to purple in under two seconds. "You bastard—" He spun toward the hallway. "Finley! Bring me the whip!" He was already reaching down, yanking one handmade leather shoe half off his foot like he meant to throw it straight at Charles's smug expression. Michael got an arm across Richard's chest before the shoe left his hand. Ethan grabbed Charles by the shoulder and hauled him back a full step. "Enough," Michael said, not loud, but final. Mila and Susan crowded in on either side of Richard, murmuring, patting his arm, trying to talk him down.
Lucas realized what he'd said a half second too late and clapped a hand over his own mouth. Damien didn't look at him. His eyes stayed fixed on the mansion beyond the gates, dark and reflecting every light spilling out of its windows. Faint laughter drifted across the grounds, carried on the night air. He could just barely make it out. Cold settled into his chest, the kind that had nothing to do with the weather. Selene. Michael's girlfriend, apparently, if the whispers were true. And this family — this many wives, this many children by different mothers, decades of tangled loyalties under one roof — Damien had assumed it would break her. He'd assumed the mess of it would be exactly the kind of thing that made a woman quietly give up and walk away. Instead she sounded like she belonged there. The laughter kept coming, easy and warm, proof enough on its own. They liked her. Actually liked her. His face went pale. Something bitter climbed up his throat and sat there, thick enoug
The Rolls-Royce rolled through the antique gates of the Ashford mansion, wheels crunching over gravel worn smooth by a hundred years of traffic. Word of their arrival moved faster than the car. By the time Maureen and Michael stepped out, Brew the butler and a line of servants were already waiting on either side of the entryway, backs straight, heads bowed. "Welcome home, Ms. Maureen!" "Ms. Maureen, may you live a long and healthy life!" Maureen pressed two fingers to her forehead, holding back a laugh. Immortality. Sure. She'd take it if anyone was offering. Before she could take another step, two women came rushing down the front steps toward her. "Maureen!" Aunt Mila reached her first, hands already out. "We missed you so much." Behind her, Susan khores closed the distance in three long strides — shoulder-length hair swinging, purple satin blouse with a silk bow at the collar, wide-leg black trousers that made her look even taller than she already was. "Aunt Mila. Aunt Su
Evening settled over the Ashford Hotel entrance, and Michael Ashford's Rolls-Royce sat parked out front, plate reading 8965. Doormen straightened their posture just standing near it. Passersby slowed down to stare. In a corner of the lot, tucked out of the light, a black Maybach waited.Damien sat in the back seat, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes fixed on the Rolls-Royce like a hawk watching something it couldn't decide whether to hunt. The hotel's glass doors slid open. Maureen walked out with Steven a step behind her. Damien's gaze sharpened, noticing Selene's breathtaking look. Light makeup. Hair down, loose over her shoulders. A pale blue silk dress that moved with her, cinched at the waist, hem catching the breeze — soft, graceful, nothing like the sharp-shouldered pantsuits and blood-red lips she'd been wearing lately. He hadn't seen her dressed like this in a long time. Something behind his ribs pulled tight. She could wear anything. Any designer, any label, any co
In the general manager's office of Ashford Hotel, the supposedly very busy Maureen had a chainsaw in her hands and three screaming survivors to catch. She leaned into the monitor, thumb mashing the trigger button. On screen, her butcher character kicked down a door and let out a roar loud enough to make the office speakers crackle. One survivor down. Two left. Beside the keyboard sat a cold beer and a half-eaten box of fried chicken, grease soaking through the paper. She grabbed a piece without looking, took a bite, eyes still locked on the screen. Nothing beat this. Summer barbecue on the rooftop. Winter cheese fondue with her brothers arguing over the last dumpling. Fried chicken and a controller in her hand. Simple things. Good things. Her character cornered the second survivor. She pressed the button a beat too hard, teeth grinding. Three years, she thought. Three years she'd spent chasing something that never once turned around to look at her. She'd had a smoke allergy
Damien picked up the graduation photo album and opened it from the first page. The masked man's moves kept replaying in his head. The footwork. The angle of the strikes. And the eyes — he knew those eyes from somewhere. He went through the album slowly, covering each face with his palm, leaving only the eyes exposed. Comparing. Discarding. Moving to the next. Lucas stood by the window, watching him work. Damien stopped on one page. His hand hovered over it. Thick eyebrows. Sharp, charming eyes staring straight into the camera lens. He stood up so fast the chair scraped back. "You found something," Lucas said. Damien didn't answer right away. His eyes were fixed on the name printed under the photo. *Charles Adams.* "Selene Adams." He said it slow, like he was tasting the words. "Charles Adams." His pulse picked up. "No wonder he called her baby sis." He remembered him now. Military academy, second year. The only student who ever came close to beating Damien in hand-to-han
Damien barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the same scene: the private café, the birthday display, Michael Ashford standing beside Selene. No, beside his ex-wife. The image irritated him more than he cared to admit, and it made no sense, because none of this should have mattered to
The moment the black Escalade rolled through the towering iron gates of the Ashford estate, Maureen felt her chest tighten. She had been gone for three long years.The familiar fountain stood proudly in the center of the circular driveway, illuminated by soft lights. Beyond it stretched the grand m
Aurora had not only been Damien's first love — she was the daughter of a longtime family friend of the Vances, a connection that guaranteed her a seamless invitation to a private dinner at the estate. Even so, the mood at the table remained suffocating. Damien sat rigid, a hard crease pressed betw
Aurora smiled softly as she rested against Damien's chest. Her fingers moved slowly across the fabric of his shirt, tracing lazy circles as though she already belonged there. "Damien, you're not yet divorced, so we shouldn't be so intimate with each other. Otherwise, Selene will resent me if she c







