Will you evere back after going abroad?


    M didn''t even have to think about it-her first instinct was to shake her head. But then she worried it sounded too final, so she gave a little nod as well.


    After everything that had happenedst time, the trauma was still fresh.


    Unless the legal team or Charlotte found some irrefutable evidence-something that could really turn the case around-she wasn''t nning oning back. If no new evidence came to light, she could always choose to file for separation after two years instead.


    Even though she hadn''t said a word, Forrest could read her thoughts just by the look on her face. He smiled and said, "Then I''ll just have to visit you overseas as often as I can."


    M parted her lips, wanting to tell him he didn''t need to go through all that trouble. But then she thought about everything he''d done for her, all the ways he''d helped. In the end, she couldn''t bring herself to refuse.


    She wanted to excuse herself and go rest, but as she nced down, her eyes caught on Forrest''s elegant hands, resting quietly on hisp. Suddenly, she remembered what he''d said to Giselle at the party earlier that evening.


    *Sorry, it''s been years since I yed. My hands are out of practice.*


    The thought nagged at her. She couldn''t help but ask, "You don''t y piano anymore?"


    Forrest froze for a moment, his fingers giving the slightest, almost imperceptible tremor. He lowered his gaze, the reflection off his sses hiding his eyes, though he still wore a gentle smile.


    "It''s been a long time," he said quietly.


    M bit her lip. Sensing he didn''t want to talk about it, she decided not to press. She started to get up, but just then, his hand closed gently but firmly around her wrist.


    She turned to find Forrest watching her, an unmistakable sadness flickering in his eyes, though his voice was soft and steady. "If you ever want to hear me y, I will. For you."


    M''s heart skipped a beat.


    She stood there stunned for a couple of seconds, not sure what to say. But then, Forrest abruptly let go of her hand, turning his face away as he spoke in a rough, quiet voice. “It''ste. You should get some rest. We can talk about the piano another time."


    M didn''t quite understand what had just happened, but her heart was suddenly racing. She nodded quickly and left the room.


    The study door closed behind her.


    Alone on the couch, Forrest''s expression twisted in pain-his face drained of color, his hands clenched so tightly on his knees that the veins stood out, trembling with the effort. For a long moment, he just sat there, fighting forposure.


    Finally, he forced himself to stand and staggered over to the desk. It took several tries before he managed to open a drawer. He fumbled inside, pulling out a white bottle of pills. His hands shook so badly that the bottle slipped and ttered across the desktop, scattering painkillers everywhere.


    He didn''t care. He grabbed a few tablets, shoved them in his mouth, and swallowed them dry. Then, utterly spent, he copsed into the chair.


    It was only after the pain had started to ebb that he took off his sses, covering


    his eyes with one still-trembling hand. Memories from seven years ago crashed over him as if it were only yesterday.


    Seven years ago, in a cramped, dim storage room.


    A young man, clothes stained and torn,y pinned to the dirty floor. One of his bloodied hands was pinned beneath a spotless white sneaker. Next to his outstretched fingers, a small hammery, slick with blood. He looked up and met Lysander''s gaze-a look of utter contempt and cold arrogance.


    Lysander pressed down harder with his foot, hatred zing in his eyes, though his voice was slow and even. "Remember this. If you ever y that damned piano and try to charm anyone close to me again, I won''t just ruin your hand. Stay away from my people."


    The young man bit back a cry, his voice ragged. "It was you—"


    Before he could finish, Lysander ground his heel down hard, cutting him off with a scream of agony. He didn''t get another word out.


    Lysander and his men left soon after.


    In the suffocating silence of the warehouse, the young many curled on the floor, dust swirling in the beam of a single light, muffled sobs wracking his body.


    Back in the study,


    Forrest pressed a shaking hand to his eyes, a brokenugh escaping his lips. After a while, his voice softened to a whisper, gentle and aching.


    "Mimi..."


    M locked her bedroom door behind her.


    She went straight to the bathroom, sshed her face with cold water, and didn''t start to feel calm again until she was back in her room. Only then did the frustration and regret settle in.