One month later, thousands of fairy lights hung from the ancient oaks and along the terraces of Thorne Manor. Night-blooming jasmine scented the warm air.
We were celebrating our twins: a boy, Julian Alexander, and a girl, Elara Dawn.
My son carried the name of the man who saved me rather than the one who broke me. My daughter's name came from the future I had reclaimed.
A string quartet played beneath the sound of conversation and clinking crystal. Alexander stood beside me with our sleeping son in his arms. Elara slept against my chest.
The twins slept between us. Alexander looked down at our son while I kept one hand over Elara Dawn's back and felt each quiet breath.
Later, when the babies were tucked into their bassinets with their nanny, Alexander led me to the center of the gran
