“Trust is fragile,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. “Don’t break mine.”
I didn’t dare speak as we left the orphanage, the silence between us thick and suffocating. It wasn’t until we were back in his car that he finally broke it.
“You’re upset.”
I stared out the window, the city lights blurring as we sped through the streets. “I just... need answers, Nathaniel.”
“Answers to what?”
I turned to face him, anger bubbling to the surface. “To who you really are.”
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might actually tell me. But instead, he changed the subject.
“You’ll know when it’s time.”
The words felt like a dismissal, and I hated how easily he could shut me out.
Later that night, as I sat in my apartment, my frustration boiled over. I couldn’t ignore the puzzle pieces anymore. His charity work, his guarded demeanor, the flashes of darkness I’d glimpsed.
And then there was Clara’s innocent warning: [You’ll see.]
Desperate for clarity, I reached for the envelope Lucas had given me earlier that week. Its contents were like poison, but I needed the antidote.
I sifted through the photos, my fingers brushed against a folded piece of paper I hadn’t noticed before.