The first thing Julian Thorne was aware of was the sound of birds. It was a cheerful, foreign sound, not the usual muffled hum of city traffic twelve stories below that greeted him in his penthouse. Then, the warm rays of the sun on his face, a sensation so unfamiliar it felt like a dream. He opened his eyes, blinking against the gentle light filtering through unfamiliar curtains.Something was wrong.This was not his bedroom. The ceiling was low, painted a soft cream instead of stark white. The sheets, though clean, smelled of a floral detergent, not his own crisp, unscented linen. The pillow was softer, less supportive. He sat up quickly, the movement abrupt, his heart giving a sudden, hard pound of panic against his ribs. The empty space beside him in the small bed was cold. He was alone."Evelyn?" he called out, his voice rough and gravelly with sle
Last Updated : 2025-12-08 Read more