Julian had arranged a private cruise on the Seine for my gallery's one-year anniversary. The boat was small enough that we could hear water against the hull.
Leo stood at the bow speaking French with the old captain while the lights along the bank came on.
My phone vibrated beside my champagne glass. The number was unfamiliar. The message was long.
*Elena. Tonight is our tenth anniversary. I'm sitting in the empty ballroom where we first danced. It's all just as it was, but without you, it's a tomb. I would burn my entire empire to the ground for a chance to go back to that night. I would trade it all for one more day. Please. I am begging you.*
I read it once, deleted it, and locked the screen.
Across the table, Julian pushed a small velvet box toward me.
“Your past belongs to you,
