The morning sun filtered through the gossamer curtains of Luna's suite, casting golden patterns across the Persian rug. She stood before the full-length mirror, her reflection a stranger in silk pajamas. The fairy-tale garden from the night before seemed like a dream now—Grayson's confession, their first real kiss, the promise of something genuine.
But Detective Roberts' words echoed in her mind like a death knell: Luna Winters. Missing for twenty years.
A soft knock interrupted her spiraling thoughts. "Come in," she called, expecting Mrs. Patel with breakfast.
Instead, Grayson entered, still in his running clothes, hair damp with sweat. His gray eyes immediately found hers in the mirror, and she watched his expression shift from warmth to concern.
"You're up early," he said, approachi
