CHAPTER 33 – RESTAURANT ENCOUNTER
The day had been brutal even by my standards.
Three back-to-back meetings, a grueling call with the Tokyo branch, and a last-minute contract revision that had nearly cost us millions. By the time I dismissed the boardroom, I could feel the headache creeping behind my eyes like an old enemy.
Silas fell into step beside me, perfectly tailored as always, but his easy posture was deliberate. He'd been watching me all day the way I clenched my jaw too often, the way I snapped when I normally wouldn't.
"You need a break," he said as soon as we stepped into the car. "Preferably something with actual food and not just caffeine strong enough to dissolve a spoon."
I shot him a look, but the corner of his mouth curved in that infuriatingly smug way.
"Pick a place," I said finally, because arguing with Silas was pointless when he was right.
He grinned. "Somewhere civilized, then. Arden's finest, coming right up."
The restaurant he chose wasn't flashy not one of those over-the-top places where everything on the menu required a translator but it was exclusive, quiet, the kind of place you went to think. Soft golden light filtered in through tall windows, catching the polished wood floors. A pianist played faintly near the bar, and the low hum of conversation filled the air.
For the first time that day, I let my shoulders drop a fraction as we were seated near the center of the room.
"You almost seem human when you're not glaring at a spreadsheet," Silas remarked, smirking as he scanned the menu.
I didn't dignify that with a reply, just leaned back and let my gaze drift until something in my peripheral vision caught me off guard.
Laughter.
Bright, lilting, unrestrained so pure it cut straight through the noise in my head.
I turned my head without thinking.
And my world stopped.
Two little girls sat at a table across the room. They were identical the same dark waves of hair falling around their faces, the same luminous eyes, the same small, perfect chins. They were talking over each other, giggling at some private joke, their spoons clinking against water glasses as if they were composing their own music.
Two of them.
Identical.
Perfect.
Beautiful.
Like someone had taken a photo of me, split it in half, and brought it to life twice over.
The air left my lungs in a sharp, silent rush. My pulse thundered, the restaurant suddenly too small, too bright.
"Lucian?" Silas followed my line of sight, then let out a low whistle. "Well, I'll be damned."
I didn't answer. Couldn't.
I couldn't stop staring.
Five years. Over five years since that night. Over five years of trying to track down the girl I'd failed. Five years of guilt gnawing at me like a disease.
And then as though the universe had decided to end me both little girls looked up.
One blinked at me, frowned in curiosity, then leaned toward her twin.
"Lila," she whispered not quietly enough "he looks like Daddy."
The other one turned, saw me, and beamed so brightly it almost knocked me backward.
"Hi, Daddy!" she called, loud enough to make a few diners turn their heads.
The words punched straight through me, clean and merciless.
Across the table, the woman with them their mother froze.
Her head turned, slowly, as if against her will.
And then I saw her face.
It was her.
The girl from that night. The girl whose name I didn't even know, whose face I had memorized under a haze of guilt and regret.
Our eyes locked across the room.
Everything inside me went still.
I stood without realizing I'd moved, the legs of my chair scraping softly against the polished floor.
She was just as I remembered except stronger now, sharper. There was fire in her eyes, panic in the tension of her jaw, but steel in the way she reached for her daughters.
"Rina," the other woman her friend, no doubt said urgently, already digging for her wallet, already moving.
Both girls were still looking at me.
"Mommy," one of them said, tugging on her sleeve. "Daddy's right there. Why are we leaving?"
But Rina didn't answer.
Her face had gone pale, but her movements were quick, efficient. She scooped one child into her arms, reached for the other's hand, and stood.
She didn't say a single word to me.
Just walked.
Past tables, past curious diners, out into the bright Arden City afternoon her back straight, her hair swaying, every line of her body screaming stay away.
I couldn't move.
I was rooted to the floor, my hands clenched at my sides, my entire body locked in place.
"Holy hell," Silas muttered. He watched them go, then looked back at me, one brow arched. "If those girls aren't yours, I'll shave my head and join a monastery."
I didn't look at him. Couldn't. My chest was too tight, my throat burning.
"Lucian." Silas's tone gentled, just a fraction.
I exhaled sharply, forcing my fists to unclench. I had never lost control of myself in public before. Never.
"Find out everything you can about her," I said, my voice low, hoarse.
Silas's grin was feral. "Thought you'd never ask."
I left the restaurant without touching my food, my heart hammering like I'd just gone twelve rounds in a fight.
Five years.
Five years of silence, of not knowing, of endless questions that had no answers.
And now there they were two little girls who had my face, my blood, my future written all over them.
I wasn't letting them disappear again.
Not this time.