The Will

The First Night I

Ayla POV

I opened the door just enough to peek through.

Gunnar stood in the hallway with his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks, looking somehow less polished than he had at dinner.

His tie was gone.

The top button of his shirt hung open.

For the first time that evening, he looked our age. "Hey," he said softly.

"Hey yourself."

His eyes flicked to my face. To my red eyes, probably. If he noticed I'd been crying, he had the decency not to mention it.

"I was thinking about taking a walk around the grounds." He shifted his weight. "Didn't know if you wanted to come."

A dozen reasons to say no flashed through my mind. I barely knew him. I was exhausted. Emotionally wrecked. And my first impression of Gunnar Hastings hadn't exactly been favorable. He carried himself like someone who had never doubted he belonged in a room. People like that usually annoyed me. Still, the thought of sitting alone with my thoughts in that giant room felt unbearable.

"

Okay."

His smile was small. Relieved. "Yeah?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

We walked downstairs in comfortable silence. The house felt different at night. Less like a museum. More like a secret. Moonlight spilled through tall windows, turning the marble floors silver. The portraits lining the walls seemed to watch us pass.

---

Outside, the air was cool enough to raise goosebumps along my arms. Gunnar noticed immediately. Without saying anything, he shrugged off his suit jacket and handed it to me.

"Oh, no, I'm fine." I told his

"You were shivering."

I hesitated. Then took it. "Thanks."

He smiled. "No problem."

We followed a stone path away from the house. For a while, neither of us spoke. I didn't mind. The silence felt easier outside. Less heavy.

Eventually, Gunnar glanced over at me. "So, first time here?"

I looked back at the mansion glowing behind us. At the gardens stretching out beneath the stars. The lake glittering in the distance. "Is it that obvious?" I internally cringed.

"A little."

"I've never even seen it in person before tonight."

His expression shifted. Not pity. Something gentler. "Then you've got to let me give you the grand tour."

I raised an eyebrow. "You know this place that well?"

"Pretty much." There was pride in his voice. Not solely arrogance. "I've been coming here for years."

For a second, jealousy flared hot and sharp inside me. Years. He'd had years. Years of dinners and holidays and summers by the lake. Years I would never get back.

I looked away before he could read any of that on my face. "This place is...just wow..."

"The full tour might have to wait until tomorrow," he said. "Estate's huge."

"How huge?"

"Huge enough that people get lost."

I frowned. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." He pointed toward the water. "But we can do the highlights."

We followed the path downhill.

As we walked, Gunnar pointed things out. The conservatory. The hedge maze. An old observatory tucked into the trees. The boathouse.

He spoke about the estate the way people talk about their hometown. Like he loved it. Like it meant something to him.

By the time we reached the private beach, my anger had dulled around the edges. The lake stretched out before us, black and endless beneath the moonlight. A wooden dock extended into the water. The boathouse sat at the far end, its lights reflecting softly against the surface.

"It's beautiful," I said quietly.

"It is."

I glanced at him. He wasn't looking at me. He was looking at the lake. For the first time all night, he seemed genuinely sad. Not shocked. Not overwhelmed. Just sad.

I wondered what Keenan Ashwood had been to him. Boss? Mentor? Something more complicated?

The thought unsettled me. Because I had spent decades imagining Keenan as a villain. A man capable of ignoring his own daughter had to be cruel. Selfish. Heartless.

But standing beside Gunnar, listening to him talk about this place, I started to realize something uncomfortable. People weren't that simple. Maybe Keenan hadn't been either.

And maybe Gunnar Hastings wasn't just the haughty, conceited, corporate golden boy I'd assumed he was.

Maybe there was more to him than that.