Ethan was clearly in a bad mood today, wrapped in a heavy, unshakable darkness. He answered with only a vague hum.

Grace was sharp enough to pick up on the shift and didn't dare ask more.

But then, after ten minutes of silence, he spoke up. "Why'd you stop asking me about it?"

The question loomed over her like a guillotine blade, poised to drop without warning.

Grace's throat tightened. "Was it someone who mattered to you?"

Ethan let out another hum.

Resting his chin in his hand, he stared out the window before murmuring, "Yeah. It wrecked me when she left."

Grace felt unsettled by Ethan right now, but even she couldn't deny that he loved with everything he had. People liked to say that devotion only came from old money, but that wasn't entirely true.

deeply, were rare. His beloved had been gone for seven years, yet he still visited her grave every year without fail. Even the look on his face bore

been something special to be loved and still longed for

say another word until the car pulled up to Westridge

solemn, imposing structure stood outside the cemetery. Armed guards were stationed at the gates. Maybe they recognized the car because the heavy iron doors swung open without hesitation. Beyond the gates were nothing but

pulled into the spot when someone appeared

His

have the nerve to

it," she answered

heavy and unreadable. She dropped her gaze instantly, her shoulders tensing as

word, Ethan slowly turned his wheelchair and headed toward one

out a breath until he was out of sight, exhaling

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