Chapter 6

Ellie POV

The air in the Thorne estate was exactly as I remembered it. Stagnant. Sterile. Cold.

It smelled of lemon polish and expensive lilies-a scent that once promised safety but now only made my throat constrict.

I stood in the hallway, my suitcase handle digging into my palm. I wasn't here to stay. I was here to perform an autopsy on my past.

I had forty-eight hours. Just enough time to pack the rest of my things, sign whatever papers Marcus needed for his tax deductions regarding my guardianship, and get back to Florence before David's wedding.

My wedding.

I grazed my thumb over the ring hidden on a chain under my shirt. The metal was warm against my skin, a secret anchor keeping me from drifting away in this house of ghosts.

I walked into the library. It was silent. I started pulling books off the shelves-the ones I had bought with my allowance, the ones with my notes scrawled in the margins. I needed to purge this room of me.

"You're back."

I didn't flinch. I didn't turn around immediately. I placed a copy of *Pride and Prejudice* into a cardboard box before facing him.

Marcus stood in the doorway. He looked impeccable, as always. Crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a glass of scotch in his hand. But there were dark circles under his eyes that hadn't been there before, shadows that spoke of restless nights.

"Hello, Marcus," I said. My voice was flat. It sounded like someone else's voice.

He walked into the room, his eyes scanning the boxes. "You didn't tell me you were coming today."

"I emailed your assistant," I said. "I'm just collecting my things."

"You have plenty of things here," he said, his tone sharpening with irritation. "You don't need to strip the shelves bare."

"I prefer to travel light."

He took a step closer. The scent of his cologne-sandalwood and rain-hit me. My stomach twisted, but I forced my face to remain blank.

"Chloe and I have set a date," he said suddenly.

It was a test. I knew it was a test. He wanted to see if the little girl who used to follow him around with heart-eyes would crumble.

I picked up a ceramic vase I had painted when I was fifteen. "That's wonderful. I'm happy for you."

I meant it. Or rather, I didn't care enough to be unhappy.

Marcus frowned. This wasn't the reaction he expected. He swirled his drink, the ice clinking sharp and lonely against the glass. "You seem... different, Ellie."

"It's been three years," I said. "People change."

"Not that much."

He watched me for a moment longer, a flicker of unease crossing his face. It was the look of a man who realized a piece of furniture had moved itself across the room without his permission.

"I need that Desert Flower sculpture," I said, changing the subject. "The one I made. I want to take it with me."

Marcus stiffened. He looked away, taking a long sip of his drink. "I don't know where it is. The cleaners probably moved it."

"It was on the mantel," I said. "It was the only thing of my parents I had left in this room."

"It's just clay, Ellie," he said dismissively. "Stop being dramatic. I'll buy you a new one."

The casual cruelty of it almost made me laugh. As if he could simply buy me a replacement childhood memory.

"Never mind," I said. "I'll look for it myself."

I turned my back on him and walked toward the high shelves in the corner. I needed to get away from his suffocating presence. I reached up, feeling along the dusty top shelf where I used to hide my treasures.

My fingers brushed against cold metal.

I pulled it down. It wasn't the sculpture. It was a small, tarnished silver locket.

My breath hitched. It was my mother's. I thought it had been lost in the move ten years ago. Marcus had told me it was gone.

But here it was. Hidden in his study. Behind his law books.

Why did he have it?

I opened it. My parents' faces smiled back at me. A wave of grief washed over me, so potent it made my knees weak. I clutched it to my chest, squeezing my eyes shut.

"What do you have there?" Marcus asked. He was right behind me now.

I spun around, trying to hide the locket, but the sudden movement made the room tilt dangerously. I hadn't eaten since I left Florence. The jet lag and the emotional exhaustion crashed into me at once.

My foot caught on the edge of a box.

I stumbled backward.

"Ellie!"

Marcus lunged. His arm caught me around the waist, pulling me hard against his chest to stop me from falling. The momentum slammed my body against his.

For a second, time stopped.

I was pressed against him, my hands braced on his shoulders. I could feel the heat of his body searing through his shirt. I could feel the rapid, heavy beat of his heart.

He looked down at me, his eyes dark and unfocused. His grip on my waist tightened, not letting go even though I had regained my balance. The air between us crackled with a dangerous, terrifying electricity.

I tried to push away, but my limbs felt heavy, useless.

"Marcus," I whispered, a warning and a plea.

He didn't move. He just stared at my mouth, his breathing ragged, as if he was seeing me for the first time in his life.