Dayton's pov
I walked toward the restaurant on autopilot, hands in my pockets, city lights flashing across my eyes. But I wasn't seeing the street. I was seeing that little boy in the lobby. Dark curls, green eyes exactly like mine, the way he laughed when he talked about dinosaurs. My chest still hurt from it.
Grace had moved on.
She had a kid with some dead guy, she said.
A family. A life that didn't include me.
The thought should have been a relief. It wasn't. It felt like someone had punched a hole straight through me.
Those eyes, though. Something about the kid pulled at me the second he looked up. Like a string tied around my ribs and tugged. I told myself it was nothing. Just shock from seeing Grace again. Just the old bond messing with my head.
I pushed it all down deep and walked into the restaurant.
Lilian sat at a corner table, red dress, hair perfect, smile already waiting. She stood when she saw me.
"Dayton." She reached for my hand. "You came."
I let her hold it for two seconds, then pulled away and sat. "You said it was important."
She sat too, leaning forward so the neckline of her dress dipped low. "It is important. Us. You and me."
I stared at her. "Lilian."
"I know I messed up," she said fast, eyes shiny. "I was stupid. Young. I'm not that girl anymore. We were good together, Dayton. Everyone still expects us to fix this. Our families, the business—"
"Stop." My voice came out harder than I meant. "There is no us. There never really was."
She bit her lip, reached across the table, and put her hand on mine. "I can make you happy again. I know your body better than anyone. Let me remind you."
Her fingers slid up my wrist, slow, practiced. Five years ago that would have worked. Tonight it felt like someone dragging nails across my skin.
I pulled my hand away. "Don't."
"Come on," she whispered, leaning closer. "One night. Like before. You'll remember how good we were."
"I remember everything," I said. "I remember walking in on you with my cousin two weeks before our wedding. I remember the lies you told the elders to save your reputation. I remember deciding I never wanted to wake up next to you again."
Her face went red. "That was one mistake!"
"One I'm thankful for every single day."
She sat back, eyes narrowing. "There's someone else, isn't there?"
I didn't answer. I just stood up, dropped cash on the table for the drinks we never ordered, and looked at her one last time.
"Goodbye, Lilian. For good."
I walked out without waiting for her reply.
The night air hit my face, cool and sharp. I stood on the sidewalk and dragged a hand through my hair.
There wasn't someone else. Not really. There was a ghost. A woman who hated me. And a little boy with my eyes who called a dead man "Daddy."
I looked up at the hotel lights glowing across the street. Somewhere up there, Grace was probably tucking him into bed, kissing his forehead, singing him to sleep.
Without me.
I told myself to let it go. She had made her choice. I had made mine five years ago when I slammed that hotel door.
But the ache in my chest wouldn't leave. I shoved my hands in my pockets and walked faster, trying to outrun Lilian's last question.
Is there someone else?
There never had been. Not really.
After Trina died when we were kids, my heart somehow went quiet. Years passed, girls came and went, and I felt nothing. No spark. No pull. Just duty. Then one night, five years ago, a crying girl in a bar looked up at me with broken eyes and something inside me roared awake.
I ignored it. I called her easy. I threw her out.
Biggest mistake of my life.
I was still cursing myself when I reached the hotel's private garden wing. The air smelled wrong. Too still. My skin prickled.
I looked up and saw two shadows move fast along the balcony of the family suite on the top floor. They had black masks, black clothes. One carried a short blade that caught the moonlight.
I didn't know why but I felt the need to act, so I ran.
Legs burning, I took the fire stairs three at a time. I hit the balcony door just as glass shattered inside.
Two men crashed through the window, rolling, silent and trained. I leapt after them, ready to rip them apart limb from limb.
What I saw froze me in the spot. Grace was already on them.
She had one guy's arm twisted so far back I heard the shoulder pop. Her knee dug into the second man's spine, forearm locked around his throat. Both were bigger than her, but they weren't moving. She looked like a storm in silk pajamas: hair wild, eyes deadly.
One attacker tried to buck her off. She slammed his face into the carpet so hard blood sprayed.
I didn't think. I just moved.
I grabbed the first guy by the neck, lifted him clean off the floor, and threw him into the wall. Plaster cracked. He slid down, groaning.
Grace's head snapped up. Her eyes met mine, wide with shock, then narrow with fury.
"Dayton, get out—"
The second man twisted free, knife flashing toward her ribs.
I roared and tackled him. We hit the ground hard. The blade skittered across the floor. My fist connected with his jaw once, twice. Lights out.
Silence fell upon us. The only sound that could be heard was our breathing and the distant hum of the city.
Grace stood over the unconscious bodies, chest rising fast, blood on her knuckles. Moonlight poured through the broken window and lit her up like a blade.
I stared, couldn't help it. She had always been strong. But this… this was something else.
"You okay?" I asked, voice rough.
She wiped her hands on her pajama pants. "I was handling it."
"I can see that."
Sirens started far away. Security finally waking up.
Grace looked at the two men, then at me, something stormy in her eyes.
"Why are you here, Dayton?"