Dante had something to get off his chest with Celine. He’d been waiting for her by her apartment building, but she’d ghosted him.

He tried calling, only to find his number blocked. The automated voice on the other end sent a sharp pang through his eyes.

No!

He had to find her.

Even if she hated him, he couldn’t let her walk away. She could resent him, make him suffer all she wanted, but she wasn’t allowed to leave. She was his. Dante Williams’s person. Always had been, always would be.

Steeling himself, he finally stood, a renewed determination in his gaze.

But as he headed for the complex gate, he heard Celine’s sobs and bitter laughter drifting from the small park.

He followed the sound. Less than sixty-five feet away, he caught her tearful, heartbroken words.

“Dante Williams, I don’t love you anymore. I’ll never love anyone again…”

The words hit him like a poisoned dagger, piercing his heart.

Swift and merciless, it buried itself deep before he could even bleed. Every beat of his heart sent a wave of agony through his body, making it hard to stand.

I’m sorry.

I’m so sorry, Celine. I messed up.

Dante watched Celine, alone and hurting in the cold, dark night. His hand trembled as he gripped his phone.

He wanted to apologize, to run to her, to hold her, to make amends for all the pain he’d caused.

But seeing her in such agony, he felt utterly unworthy.

They were like two lone lights in the dark, briefly crossing paths before inevitably drifting apart.

He’d thought they were still close, that there was still a chance to fix things.

But two lines that have already crossed will never meet again in this lifetime.

So he stood frozen, unable to take a single step forward.

He’d already forfeited the right to hold her.

His eyes burned. He went to rub them, but as he lowered his head, he saw droplets falling onto the ground—tears of his regret.

The distant streetlight cast their long shadows, one hunched, one standing, one falling behind the other.

The night deepened, the air growing colder. Finally, the longer shadow turned and retreated, step by step, into the darkness, choosing not to intrude.

After days of soul-searching, Celine finally made up her mind and headed to the Williams family estate.

It was the place she'd called home for three years. As the maid led her inside, she scanned the familiar furnishings.

Nothing had changed. It was exactly as she’d left it.

“Miss Evans, the Master is in his study. You can go in yourself.”

The maid showed her to the second floor before turning back.

Celine let out a wry smile. Not everything was the same, after all. At least the form of address had changed, hadn't it?

She had no ties to this place anymore. She was free.

Composing herself, Celine walked to the study door and knocked.

“Grandfather, it’s Celine Evans. I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Come in.”

Hearing the voice, Celine pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Dante’s grandfather was brewing coffee. The rich aroma of his favorite dark roast filled the room.

Seeing Celine, the old man placed a coffee cup by his elbow, filled it halfway, and gestured for her to sit.

“You’re here. You called this morning saying you had something to discuss. What is it?”

Dante’s grandfather was surprised. This young woman had once defended his good-for-nothing grandson fiercely. After the divorce, though, she’d never set foot here again.

He’d heard bits and pieces of what happened later and had wisely stayed out of it, letting her live her life. Dante simply hadn’t been worth her.

He’d even gone to see her after her recent car accident, though she’d been unconscious then.

Such a foolish girl, protecting that waste of space so fiercely even after they were no longer married.

He’d never expected her to show up now, claiming to have important news.

Celine looked at the man, easily in his seventies, carefully considering how to break the news without shattering him.

She worried the shock might be too much for the old man. This was something she should have told Dante herself.

But given his situation with Isabella…

Celine feared he’d just dismiss her as a drama queen before she could even get to the point.

“Grandfather, I… I’ve discovered something. But you need to stay calm. Please, listen to everything I have to say, slowly, and don’t get angry. We’re going to need your help to handle what comes next.”

Sensing the gravity and concern in her tone, Dante’s grandfather grew solemn. This was clearly important.

“Alright,” he replied in a low voice, gesturing towards the sofa. He resumed his meticulous coffee brewing, pouring hot water as he spoke. “Good. I’ll listen while I make the coffee. Speak slowly, don’t rush. But don’t be afraid either. At my age, there’s little I haven’t seen.”

Celine picked up the coffee cup before her and downed it in one go. She took a few deep breaths before starting slowly.

She recounted everything, from Isabella’s departure abroad to Archer Reynolds’s return, and the connection between the Lopez family and the car accident.

Dante’s grandfather listened quietly. When he heard about his son and daughter-in-law’s fatal crash, his face remained impassive, but the kettle in his hand had long since boiled over, unnoticed.