He chuckles. "I like to go out and pretend sometimes. It reminds me of what’s real. And sometimes, I meet people like you. People who need help."
I stare at him, unable to process anything.
"Why me?" I whisper.
His smile softens. "Because I see fire in you, Claire. You just need someone to bring it back to life."
I don’t know what to say. For the first time in a long time, I feel something other than pain.
Hope.
"Stay here," he says. "I’ll take care of you. And when you’re strong enough…"
His eyes glint.
"You’ll take back what’s yours."
A slow, burning determination rises in my chest.
I lift my chin, my fingers curling into fists.
Liam.
I’m coming for you.
For the first time in months, I wake up in a real bed.
Not on the cold, hard pavement.
Not in some dirty alley, curled up with my arms wrapped around myself.
A real bed. With silk sheets and the scent of fresh linen surrounding me.
It almost feels like a dream.
But when I open my eyes, the massive chandelier above me reminds me that this is real. That I’m in Richard Blackwood’s mansion—no longer a homeless, broken woman left to rot in the streets.
I don’t know why he took me in.
I don’t know why he’s helping me.