Lana’s POVFor the first time in years, I felt truly seen.Not as Lana Roth, the composed founder and director of a successful foundation, the woman donors trusted, the face splashed across carefully filtered interviews. Not as the strong single mother who never stumbled, never faltered. But as me. The woman who had loved once without armor, who had broken quietly, who had made choices out of fear rather than certainty.Jace’s hands were wrapped around mine, his thumbs brushing slow, grounding circles against my knuckles. His touch was warm, steady, nothing like the frantic pounding of my heart. We sat on the edge of the couch, knees almost touching, the space between us charged with everything unspoken.The room was quiet, but it wasn’t empty. It was full of history, of truth, of a past that had finally clawed its way into the light.I swallowed, my throat tight. “I didn’t even know it was you that night,” I said softly.Jace’s fingers stilled, just for a fraction of a second, befo
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