NovelEnglishChapter 67
After three years of marriage, he’d taken whatever he wanted from me. What difference would this moment
make?
And so, | let Blake guideto his car.
Blake's car glided to a stop outside Lunar Mansion.
The familiar gates stood tall, guarding the place full of memories I'd tried to forget. The manicured gardens, the
marble fountain, the sweeping driveway - everything exactly as I'd left it two weeks ago.
I never thought I'd see this place again. The day | walked away, clutching Snow to my chest like a lifeline after
losing our baby, I'd been so certain. So final. Yet here | was, unable to break free completely.
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“Out.” Blake's command cut through my reminiscing, his voice carrying that familiar mix of authority and
impatience.
| pulled myself from the car, steadying my nerves with a deep breath. But before | could take a single step
toward the entrance, his hand caught my arm. The touch was different from his earlier possessive grip - lighter,
almost hesitant. When his fingers slid down to intertwine with mine, the gesture felt.so foreign it nearly stopped
my heart.
His palm burned against mine as he ledtoward the mansion, his steps steady. | couldn't help stealing glances
at his profile, trying to read something anything in that controlled expression.
This gentle contact was so unlike him. The Blake | knew had always maintained careful distance, treating
physical touch like a weapon to be wielded rather than a comfort to be shared. Now, his fingers wrapped around
mine with a warmth that felt almost... protective.
“Blake darling, you're home!”
Laurel's voice cut through my thoughts like a knife. She stood in the doorway wearing a soft pink loungewear
set, a matching pink apron tied around her waist. She held a spatula in her right hand, completing her carefully
crafted picture of domestic bliss.
The moment her eyes landed on our joined hands, that carefully crafted warmth shattered. Her lips trembled as
she turned to Blake. “Why did you... bring
Miss Sinclair here?”
The irony of her words almost madelaugh. This was our marital h- mine and Blake's - where we'd
created the few precious moments of happiness I'd been allowed to keep.l never imagined he'd bring her here,
let her play house in the spaces where my dreams had lived and died.
Before Blake could respond, | slipped my hand from his grasp. “Don’t worry, I'm just here for Snow.”
Without bothering to respond, | moved past her into the house. The brief contact of our shoulders was barely
enough to disturb air, but Laurel's reaction was just too tic. She staggered backward, one hand flying to
her shoulder while the other pressed against her heart.
I didn’t slow my stride, didn’t turn back. Let her play her games. The moment | stepped into the living room,
reality landed a far harder blow than any theatrical shoulder bump.
Three years of marriage, distilled into what remained: nothing. Our wedding portrait had been replaced by a
towering glamour shot of Laurel. The warm, earthy tones I'd chosen to make this house feel like hhad been
stripped away, repainted in shades of pink that felt like a deliberate erasure of my existence.
Half a month. That's all it had taken to transform three years of memories into a shrine to Laurel Rose.
I drew in a deep breath, forcing down the emotions/threatening to overwhelm me. Even though | knew this day
would come, it still hurts.
But | couldn't afford to dwell on it. Somewhere in this mansion, Snow was waiting. And right now, that was all
that mattered.
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