His Forgotten Bride

The Night Everything Went Dark

Xavier Kane's POV

I could still feel her hand in mine, even hours later, even with my desk covered in contracts that needed my signature and not my memory of a woman I couldn't name.

She had a way of talking that made the room feel smaller, safer, like nothing outside those four walls could touch us.

I kept trying to picture her face, and it kept slipping away from me, but her voice stayed, steady and warm, telling me we didn't need names.

"Sir?"

I looked up and found Anu in my doorway, arms full of files.

"You've been staring at that same page for ten minutes," she said.

"Just thinking," I said, closing the folder.

"About the merger?"

"Something like that," I said. "What's my schedule?"

"The board call at eleven, contractors at one, and your grandmother wants you at the estate by six," Anu said. "She said don't you dare cancel again."

I smiled at that, because Eleanor never asked twice, she just made you feel the weight if you tried her patience.

"Tell her I'm looking forward to it," I said.

"You're smiling," Anu said. "That's new."

"Can't a man be excited to see his grandmother?"

"Not the way you usually complain about her lectures," she said, walking out before I could argue.

The board call went the way it always did, Derek dragging his feet on the Hartford deal, me pushing back until he gave in.

"Friday," I said. "No extensions."

"Fine," Derek muttered, and the rest of the board nodded along like they always did.

By the time the contractors' meeting wrapped, the sun had started dipping behind the buildings, and I felt something close to lightness for the first time all week.

I got in the car and told my driver, "The estate."

"Big smile today, sir," he said, catching my eye in the mirror.

"Dinner with my grandmother," I said.

"First one in weeks."

The estate gates opened before we even pulled up all the way, and I saw Eleanor standing on the porch already, arms crossed, trying to look stern and failing at it.

"You're three minutes late," she said as I climbed out of the car.

"I'm early by your standards," I said, walking up the steps to hug her.

"Don't sweet talk me, Xavier Kane," she said, but she hugged me back tight, tighter than usual.

"You look good," I said.

"I look like a woman who hasn't seen her grandson in two weeks," she said. "Inside, now, before the food gets cold."

Dinner was set in the smaller dining room, the one she always used when it was just us, and the smell of her cook's stew hit me the second we walked in.

"You remembered my favorite," I said.

"I remember everything," she said, sitting at the head of the table. "That's the problem with getting old, the memory doesn't fade, only patience does."

I laughed and took my seat across from her, and for a while we just ate, her asking about the company, me complaining about Derek without really meaning it.

"He means well," she said.

"He means to inherit," I said.

"Same thing, depending on the day," she said, and I nearly choked on my water laughing.

"How was the safe house?" she asked, changing the subject so fast I almost missed it. "I heard you were moved without much warning."

"It was fine," I said. "Quiet."

"Nothing strange happened?"

I paused for half a second, thinking of a hand in the dark, a voice telling me we didn't need names, but it felt too small, too strange to say out loud, so I let it go.

"Nothing I can't handle," I said instead.

"Good," she said, satisfied, moving on to ask about the wedding rumors circling the company, whether I'd finally consider settling down.

"Not this again," I said.

"I'm old, Xavier, I want to see you happy before I'm gone."

"You'll outlive all of us," I said. "You're too stubborn to die."

"Watch your mouth," she said, but she was smiling when she said it.

We talked for another hour, about nothing important, the kind of conversation that felt like coming up for air after weeks underwater, and by the time I stood to leave, my chest felt lighter than it had in days.

"Drive safe," she said at the door, hugging me again.

"Always do," I said.

"I mean it," she said, holding on a second longer than usual. "Something's felt off this week. Humor an old woman and be careful."

"I will," I said, kissing her cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too," she said. "Now go, before I start crying like a fool."

I laughed and jogged down the steps to the car, feeling good, feeling normal, the kind of normal I hadn't felt in weeks.

"Home, sir?" my driver asked as I climbed in.

"Home," I said, leaning my head back against the seat, already thinking about a hot shower and an early night.

The city lights blurred past the window, and for a second I let my eyes close, that stranger's voice slipping back into my head uninvited.

We don't need names, she'd said.

I don't know why I couldn't stop thinking about her.

"Sir," my driver said, glancing at the mirror. "Car's coming up fast behind us."

I opened my eyes and turned to look, and that's the last thing I remember clearly, headlights filling the back window, growing bigger, too fast, too close, my driver's hands jerking the wheel, and my body slamming sideways as the world exploded into noise and glass.