Chapter 1 The Return

The car ride from the airport had been too quiet. Cassia's phone hadn't buzzed once. No calls, no condolences. Everyone who knew her already knew better. She wasn't the grieving widow. She wasn't the ex. She was the other one-the sister.

The house came into view slowly, wrapped in cypress trees and June heat. It looked like a painting-perfect and empty. Just like Katherine had always wanted.

Cassia stepped out in sandals too thin for gravel, suitcase bumping behind her. The air was thick with rosemary and money. She hesitated at the front steps.

She hadn't been back in five years.

The door opened before she knocked.

Dorian Lane stood there.

Dark suit. No tie. Shirt sleeves rolled. Eyes unreadable.

"Cassia," he said. His voice was lower than she remembered-rougher somehow.

She swallowed. "Dorian."

A beat passed. He stepped aside.

She entered.

The foyer hadn't changed. Cool marble, gold-rimmed mirror, her sister's scent still clinging to the air like she hadn't left.

Cassia dragged her fingers along the polished banister.

"You look different," he said.

"It's been years."

"No," Dorian murmured. "That's not what I meant."

He let her pass. She didn't ask which room was hers. She already knew. Upstairs. Third on the right. The guest room. Not Kat's room.

Never Kat's room.

She unpacked in silence. Her clothes hung beside the ones she'd never had the nerve to throw away-cotton dresses, soft sweaters, things she didn't wear anymore. Things she wouldn't wear around him.

Later, after the sun dipped behind the trees, she wandered downstairs barefoot, looking for wine and silence. Instead, she found Dorian in the kitchen. Sleeves still rolled. Tie still absent. A glass in his hand.

He poured another.

"Cabernet?" he asked.

"Whatever numbs fastest."

He handed it to her.

Their fingers brushed. Not by accident.

Her throat tightened. She took a sip.

He didn't move.

She didn't leave.

"Did you love her?" she asked quietly.

Dorian's eyes didn't flinch. "I married her."

"That's not the same."

"No," he said. "It's not."

The silence stretched. Long enough to sting.

"She made everything look perfect," Cassia said. "Even when it wasn't."

"She was good at that."

"You didn't stop her."

He tilted his glass, studied her over the rim. "Neither did you."

Cassia turned toward the window. The vineyard beyond the kitchen shimmered in twilight, a sea of gold shadows and secrets.

"She didn't want me here," Cassia said. "Not even at the end."

"But you came anyway."

"I wanted to see what she left behind."

Dorian stepped closer. His voice dropped, low and heavy. "She left me."

Cassia looked up, heart skidding.

Their faces were inches apart now. The air between them too still.

"She was your wife," Cassia said.

"I know."

"And I'm-"

"I know who you are."

His hand brushed her wrist. Lightly. Heat bloomed.

Cassia's breath caught. She didn't pull away.

"You shouldn't," she whispered.

"I already do."

A beat. Then another.

He stepped back.

"Sleep well, Cassia."

He left her in the kitchen, glass still in her hand, wine thick on her tongue, heart pounding loud in the silence.