Aaron's arms remained wrapped around Celina.
She was quiet against him, her cheek resting over his heart.
The room had fallen into a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft ticking of the clock.
Aaron looked down at her.
"Are you falling asleep?"
"Maybe."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Then I should let you."
Celina tightened her arms around him.
"Don't."
His eyebrows lifted.
"You don't want to sleep?"
"I don't want you to move."
Something softened in his expression.
"Then I won't."
He settled deeper into the sofa, allowing her to remain exactly where she was.
Celina closed her eyes again.
There was something about being held by him that made the worries she couldn't explain seem smaller.
After a few moments, she whispered,
"Aaron?"
"I'm here."
"Do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if things had turned out differently?"
He looked toward the darkened window.
"Sometimes."
"What would you change?"
He didn't hesitate.
"Nothing."
She lifted her head.
"Nothing?"
"Because every road I took eventually brought me to you."
Her eyes softened.
"You always know what to say."
"Not always."
He brushed his fingers through her hair.
"But with you, I don't have to pretend."
Celina smiled.
Then she noticed the time.
"You really should go."
"I know."
Neither moved.
Celina laughed quietly.
"You're not leaving."
"You're the one holding onto me."
She immediately loosened her arms.
"I am not."
Aaron smiled.
"Of course not."
She gave him a playful look.
"You're impossible."
"And you're still smiling."
He leaned down and kissed her forehead.
"I'll go soon."
Celina rested her head against his shoulder again.
"Five more minutes."
"Five."
They both knew it wouldn't be five.
Upstairs, the cream-colored invitation remained on Celina's desk.
The gold lettering caught the faint light from the hallway.
The Monroe Foundation Annual Charity Gala.
A name connected to a past Celina knew nothing about.
A past Aaron knew even less about.
And somewhere in Rosewood, there was a woman who already knew exactly who Celina was.
Sophia.
She sat alone in her living room, staring at an old photograph.
Isabella.
Her fingers moved slowly over the faded image.
She already knew the truth.
Celina was Isabella's daughter.
The young woman she had met.
The woman she had watched bring laughter back into Aaron's life.
The woman she had once thanked without knowing just how deeply their lives were connected.
Sophia closed her eyes.
How could she tell Celina?
How could she explain that the mother Celina had never known was Isabella Monroe?
And how could she tell her that the people responsible for destroying Isabella's life might still be close enough to hurt her?
Her phone rang.
Sophia opened her eyes.
Mrs. Hart.
She answered.
"Hello?"
Mrs. Hart's voice was quiet.
"Have you spoken to Celina?"
"No."
A pause.
"Are you going to tell her?"
Sophia looked down at the photograph.
"I don't know."
"We can't hide it forever."
"I know."
"Then what are we going to do?"
Sophia swallowed.
"She finally has something good in her life."
She looked toward the window.
"Aaron loves her."
Mrs. Hart was silent.
"And after everything my son has been through..." Sophia continued, "I can't be the person who takes his happiness away from him."
"Knowing the truth doesn't mean destroying their happiness."
Sophia closed her eyes.
"I know."
"But?"
Sophia's voice dropped.
"But Vivian won't stop."
That silenced Mrs. Hart.
Sophia looked again at Isabella's photograph.
"We need to make sure Celina is safe before telling her anything."
Back at the Bakers' home, Aaron finally stood.
Celina followed him to the door.
He turned toward her.
"Tomorrow."
"What?"
"I'll see you tomorrow."
She smiled.
"You say that like you're making a business appointment."
"I'm serious about seeing you."
"I know."
He gently touched her cheek.
"Goodnight, Celina."
"Goodnight."
He kissed her softly.
Then he opened the door.
Before stepping outside, he looked back.
She was still standing there.
"Go to bed."
"You first."
He laughed.
"Stubborn."
"Very."
He shook his head and walked toward his car.
Celina watched him drive away.
Only after his taillights disappeared did she close the door.
She stood there for a moment, smiling.
Then she remembered the invitation.
Her smile slowly faded.
She went upstairs and picked it up.
The Monroe name stared back at her.
She didn't know why it felt so strangely personal.
She had no idea that somewhere in the same city, Sophia already knew the answer.
And she certainly didn't know that the woman whose blood ran through her veins had once stood in this very city...
Fighting to keep her unborn child alive.
Twenty-five years ago, Isabella had lost everything.
Her home.
Her family.
Her life.
But she had not lost her daughter.
And now that daughter was unknowingly walking straight back into the family that had tried to erase her.