Lena’s POV
The voice detonates the moment.
It hits like a gunshot wrapped in disbelief, echoing off marble and glass.
My whole body goes still.
For a heartbeat, I forget where I am — the dining hall, the soft hum of background jazz, the faint scent of truffle and expensive wine. Everything blurs into static.
I turn, slow, unwilling, like I’m afraid of confirming a nightmare.
And then I see him.
Wes.
He stands in the doorway, backlit by warm light, hands shoved in his pockets like he owns every room he walks into. The same arrogance that once made my pulse quicken now feels like a blade pressed against old wounds.
He looks exactly the same — sharp lines, easy smile, eyes too green to ever mean peace. Except now, there’s something else there. Shock.
His gaze collides with mine.
It
