The gala hall was a blur of movement, the air thick with the hum of conversation and the relentless clinking of champagne flutes.

Remi caught sight of a lonely figure slipping away into the shadows. The back was familiar, though her mind failed to place him.

"Remi? What are you looking at?"

"That guy over there. He looks... familiar."

"Remi!"

Damian’s sharp, annoyed tone made her burst into laughter. She leaned in, deliberately stumbling into him, hiding her hands behind her back with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Don't get your feathers ruffled. I have a gift for you."

"A gift?"

"Hold out your hand. Fingers spread, forearm vertical."

Damian didn't ask questions. He followed her instructions, his gaze fixed on hers. "And now?"

Remi raised her small hand. Nestled between her index and middle fingers was a ring. With a swift, seamless motion, she locked her fingers with his, letting the ring slide effortlessly onto his middle finger.

Damian froze. His eyes widened in disbelief. "Remi, is this...?"

"Don't tell me you don't get it."

"I get it. I absolutely get it."

He cupped her face, his excitement boiling over as he pressed a loud, resounding kiss to her lips.

The surrounding chatter died down instantly. Every head in the vicinity turned to stare.

Remi felt her face flame a deep, mortified red. "Oh, ah, carry on! Nothing to see here. Just... a bit of gas. Sorry!"

The sudden roar of laughter from the crowd made her want to vanish into the floorboards. She smacked her own mouth, cursed her lack of impulse control, and sprinted out of the ballroom.

"Remi! Watch your step!"

Damian caught up to her in long strides, sweeping her into a crushing hug.

"I’m so embarrassed," she muffled into his chest.

"Don't be. It was festive. It fit the atmosphere perfectly."

She tilted her flushed face up, searching his eyes. "You really think so?"

"I know so."

"Wait—hush. Do you hear that? Someone's crying."

Remi tilted her head, navigating the sound until she spotted a girl crouched behind a marble pillar, sobbing into her hands. Remi reached out to comfort her, but Damian was faster.

"Siena! What are you howling about in here?"

The girl looked up. Her face was a ruin of smudged, black mascara and tears. She looked utterly wretched.

"Big brother, it hurts..."

The sight was pathetic enough that even Damian couldn't bring himself to keep scolding her. He pulled her to her feet. "Are you still not over this?"

"I’ll never meet anyone as brilliant as Marcellus... never..."

"Siena, you’re chasing a ghost. He’s out of your reach. Why torture yourself?"

Damian’s tone was uncharacteristically gentle, a rare mercy that only made Siena break down harder. She buried her face in his chest. He stood there, rhythmically patting her back with surprising patience. He understood the ache of unattainable longing better than anyone.

When the sobbing finally tapered off, Siena wiped her damp face against his shoulder, looking bashful. "I'm sorry, brother."

"Here, use this. You’re dirtier than a mudslide."

Siena snatched the tissue from Remi, scrubbing at her face carelessly. When she saw the streaks of black mascara on the tissue, she shrieked and sprinted toward the restroom.

Remi watched her go, a small smile playing on her lips. "She’s such a clumsy, spoiled brat."

"Remi, can you stop focusing on everyone else for a second?"

"That’s just 'everyone else,' isn't it?"

"Exactly. From now on, it’s just you and me."

His voice was a low, velvet trap. Remi felt a tingle in her ears and pushed him away. "Quit whispering in my ear, you're too close."

Damian sighed internally: *Note to self: How to flirt with a woman made of cold steel? Asking for a friend.*

"Remi? What are you doing out here?"

"Oh, hi. I was just heading back in. Are you leaving?"

"Yeah. Heading back to the office."

Remi watched the man’s retreating back. Damian gave her a sharp nudge. "Hey, eyes on me. You’re going to start drooling."

"Don't be shallow. That's pure, objective appreciation. The guy is talented, handsome, and emotionally stable. He's a catch!"

"Remi Crawford! Did someone possess your soul? You just gave me a ring five minutes ago! Remember?"

"I have to find Evangeline."

Remi bolted, leaving the fuming man behind. The sight of that man’s retreating back had reminded her of that familiar, strange presence she’d felt in the ballroom earlier.

"Evangeline!"

Evangeline brushed a stray lock of hair from Remi's lip. "What’s got you so worked up?"

Remi glanced around, making sure Marcellus was out of earshot before leaning in. "I just saw Jonah Harrison."

"The Harrisons are regular guests. Him being at my gala isn't exactly earth-shattering."

"No, it’s not that. It’s him. His whole vibe... it’s different. I almost didn't recognize him."

"That much of a change?"

Remi nodded hard. "He’s got this aura—like he could kill. It’s cold, menacing. Honestly? It’s terrifying."

Evangeline’s lips curled into a glacial smile. "It seems he’s finally grown a spine."

Her look sent a shiver down Remi’s spine. "Evangeline, the history between you two isn't just..." She stopped herself, suddenly remembering the occasion, and swatted her own mouth. "Ignore me! Forget I said anything. It’s a happy day, why am I bringing him up?"

Evangeline chuckled, catching her wrist. "Easy, you’ve hit yourself enough today. Your mouth is going to be bruised."

"I know, I know. My brain just can't keep up with my mouth. My bad!"

***

Miles away, Jonah Harrison stood at the edge of the coastline he had spent months trying to avoid.

This was the place where his cowardice had forged a regret that would haunt his existence. This was where he had severed the cord that bound him to Evangeline forever.

"Evangeline, I regret it. I regret everything," he muttered to the waves. "I lost the right to stand by your side, didn't I? We were supposed to be childhood sweethearts. It was written in the stars, and I... I was the one who shattered it."

He stood by the shore, clutching the heirloom bracelet that should have graced Evangeline’s wrist. Hours passed. The sky turned a bruised gray, and the tide began to roll in. The icy water surged around his ankles, soaking his trousers, but he didn't move. He didn't even blink.

"Hey! Buddy! Get back here! It's dangerous!"

"He's been standing there for an eternity. He's not thinking about jumping, is he?"

"Look at him. He’s completely unhinged."

Crowd members whispered, some shouting for him to step back, but Jonah remained a statue. Finally, a burly passerby lunged forward and hauled him back onto the sand.

"Kid, whatever is bothering you, it isn't worth it. Think about your parents. Your family!"

"My family? Ha!"

In his past life, he had been a coward, always bowing to his parents' expectations. Now? Was he still going to be a prisoner of his own indecision?

"Hey, what’s eating you, kid?"

Jonah looked at the stranger with hollow, glassy eyes. "My fiancée died in this ocean. I was the one who threw her in. Ha. Hahaha. Hahaha!"

The laughter was chilling, vibrating with a manic, jagged edge. The stranger stumbled back, skin crawling, and quickly dialed the police.

Within minutes, Jonah was in the back of a squad car. When Angela Harrison arrived to pick him up, she slapped him hard across the face.

"Jonah! Can you please just wake up?"

Seeing her son in such a fractured state, Angela finally crumbled, sobbing as she hammered her fists against his chest. "Jonah! My boy! Please, I’m begging you, just stop this!"

"Ma'am," the officer said, glancing at the trembling boy, "I’d suggest seeing a psychiatrist. He’s experiencing delusions, and—"

"Shut up!" Angela shrieked, cutting him off before dragging Jonah away. "My son is not insane! He is not!"

"God, the poor parents," the officer muttered, shaking his head.

Back at the Harrison estate, Jonah remained catatonic, his fingers locked in a death grip around the bracelet.

"Jonah, give it to me. Just let it go." Angela pried at his fingers, but they wouldn't budge.

"Mom, don't worry about me. I'm fine."

Angela let out a ragged, heartbroken sob. "You are anything but fine."

"I am. I'm going to live a good life. I promised her."

"A good life? Working yourself to the bone, drinking yourself into a stupor every night? Jonah, I just want you to be happy! Don't you understand?"

Jonah tore himself away from her, walking with a heavy, dead-eyed gait toward the stairs. Angela stood in the foyer, clutching her chest, her weeping echoing through the empty halls.