Five Years Ago - A Rooftop in Manhattan
The New York air was warm and thick with the promise of summer. It tasted of taxi exhaust, distant rain, and infinite possibility.
For Evelyn Reed, a twenty-three-year-old art student interning for a demanding gallery, it was the backdrop to a life she was only just beginning to imagine.
The rooftop party was a swirl of strangers and too-loud music, but she'd found a pocket of quiet by the ledge, looking out over the glittering tapestry of the city. She felt a presence beside her before he spoke.
"You look like you're plotting the city's escape routes."
She turned. And her world, for a moment, tilted.
He was handsome, but it was more than that. It was the easy confidence in his stance, the intelligence in his gaze, and a smile that didn't seem practiced.
His eyes were a startling shade of silver, catching the city lights like liquid mercury.
"Maybe I am," she said, finding her voice. "It's a lot to take in."
"It is," he agreed, leaning on the ledge beside her. "It can make you feel incredibly small, or… like you can reach out and hold it all in your hand." He glanced at her, his smile softening. "I'm Leo. Leo Sand."
"Evie," she said. "Evie Reed."
That was all it took. A name. A look.
They talked for hours. He asked about her art, and he actually listened, his questions insightful and genuine.
He made her laugh with stories of his travels, painting vivid pictures of European cobblestone streets and Asian night markets.
He spoke of them with a wistful fondness, like memories he was revisiting. She felt seen, in a way no one had ever made her feel before. He wasn't trying to impress her; he was simply connecting.
He was just "Leo." A man taking a break from the family business, he'd said. He felt real. He felt like hers.
Later, as the party died down, he walked her home. The summer night hummed around them. On the steps of her walk-up, he didn't try to kiss her. He just took her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.
"Can I see you again, Evie Reed?" he asked, his voice low.
"Yes," she whispered, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs.
He smiled, a true, unreserved smile that reached his incredible eyes. "Tomorrow."
He turned and walked away, disappearing into the New York night. Evie hugged the feeling to her chest, a secret, incandescent joy. It was the start of something. It felt like a beginning.
She didn't know it was the start of an ending.
She didn't know that the man she'd just met, the man with the mercury eyes and the easy laugh, was Lysander Crowe, heir to a billion-dollar empire.
She didn't know that in six weeks, he would vanish without a trace, leaving behind only a ghost and a secret that would grow inside her.
She didn't know that the perfect summer was just the prelude to a storm.
Present Day (Cape Serenity, Maine)
The envelope felt like a lead weight in Evelyn Reed's hand.
The bank's logo, embossed and severe, stared back at her from the thick, expensive paper.
It was a stark contrast to the warm, slightly cluttered office at the back of her café, The Daily Grind, which smelled perpetually of coffee beans and cinnamon.
Final Notice. Foreclosure proceedings will commence in 30 days.
The words blurred before her eyes. Five years. Five years of back-breaking work, of sleepless nights, of pouring every ounce of her soul and every spare dollar into this place into the mismatched china, the local art on the walls, the recipe for the lemon lavender scones that Luna loved so much. It was more than a business; it was the home she had built for her children. The fortress that kept the world at bay.
A fortress with crumbling walls.
Her gaze drifted from the grim letter to the source of all her strength. Two small, dark heads were bent over a coloring book at the counter, illuminated by the soft morning light filtering through the bay window.
Leo, her serious little man, his brow furrowed in concentration as he meticulously stayed within the lines of a complex dragon illustration.
His small tongue was peeking out from the corner of his mouth, a sign of deep focus. He had his father's eyes that same piercing, mercury-silver and it still sent a jolt through her sometimes.
Luna, his counterpart in every way, was humming a tuneless, happy song as she attacked her paper with a rainbow of crayons.
A vibrant, chaotic sun with a beaming smile was taking shape, its rays extending wildly in every direction. She had Evie's warm hazel eyes and her own irrepressible spirit.
For them, she thought, her heart clenching so tight it was a physical pain. Everything is for them.
"Mommy?" Luna looked up, holding her masterpiece. "I made this for you! It's you, and me, and Leo, and we're all standing in front of a big, big castle!"
Evelyn forced a smile, the expression feeling brittle on her face. She willed the tears not to fall. "It's the most beautiful castle I've ever seen, sweetpea." She took the drawing, her fingers trembling slightly. A castle.
Her daughter was drawing castles while their own world was about to be foreclosed on.
The laptop on her desk was open, the screen glowing like a portal to another, impossible world. The website for the "Starlight Hope Charity Gala" in New York City was displayed.
A ticket cost two thousand dollars. It was an insane, desperate gamble. It was literally throwing her last hope into a bottomless pit.
But the guest of honor's face was featured prominently on the page.
"Lysander Crowe pov"
His face was sharper now, the carefree summer smile replaced by a stern, commanding expression. The boyish softness had been carved away, leaving behind the hard, imposing lines of a man who commanded boardrooms and billion-dollar deals.
But the eyes…
They were the same. The same intense, silver eyes that had haunted her dreams for five years. The same eyes that looked back at her every day from her son's face.
Her stomach churned with a nauseating cocktail of fear, resentment, and a treacherous, long-buried flicker of the love she'd felt for Leo Sand.
She clicked "purchase." The confirmation email appeared instantly, a digital death sentence for her savings account. A wave of dizziness washed over her.
She was going to New York. She was going to walk into a room of the city's most powerful, polished people and find the most intimidating man she'd ever seen.
And she was going to tell the great Lysander Crowe that he was a father.