The air shimmered with gold and smoke.
Laughter spilled from every corner of the ballroom, bright and hollow, echoing the night I died.
How poetic, I thought bitterly. My first public appearance as Elara Voss — and fate had the sense of humor to put me face-to-face with my murderer.
I gripped the stem of my champagne glass to keep my hands from shaking. The bubbles fizzed and died, just like my nerves. Across the marble floor, Adrian Hale's gaze pinned me in place.
He looked exactly as I remembered — devastatingly composed, every inch of him carved from control. The black suit, the silver cufflinks, the faint scar at his jaw that I used to trace with my fingertips.
Only his eyes had changed. They were colder now. Older. And when they found mine, the world tilted.
He began to walk toward me.
Each step echoed through the ballroom — soft, deliberate, and deadly. My pulse roared in my ears.
I told myself he couldn't know. He couldn't possibly see Lyra Hale behind this face.
But then he smiled.
Not the polite kind. The kind that said, I remember you, even if I shouldn't.
"Miss Voss."
His voice was low, smooth, and dangerous — like velvet hiding a blade.
"Mr. Hale," I replied, forcing calm. "I didn't expect to see you here tonight."
He studied me, his eyes tracing every line of my face. "You remind me of someone."
"Oh?" I tilted my head, feigning innocence. "A past lover, perhaps?"
Something flickered in his expression — pain, regret, or maybe memory. "Perhaps," he said quietly.
My chest tightened. For a second, I felt the ghost of the bullet again, the ache of betrayal. I forced it away. I wasn't Lyra anymore. I was Elara Voss.
"I've heard of you," he said. "The lost heiress who returned from the dead."
I smiled thinly. "You could say I have a habit of surviving things I shouldn't."
His eyes darkened. "Survival can be a curse, Miss Voss. The dead are supposed to stay buried."
Something in the way he said it sent a chill through me. Did he know? Was it guilt speaking — or threat?
Before I could answer, a woman approached — tall, elegant, dripping with diamonds. She slipped her arm through Adrian's.
"Adrian," she purred, "are you going to introduce me?"
He hesitated, just slightly. "Elara Voss," he said finally. "This is my… fiancée, Cassandra Vale."
My stomach twisted. Of course he had moved on. Of course he was engaged again — to someone who looked like every shard of perfection money could buy.
"Pleasure," I said smoothly, though my voice was ice.
Cassandra's smile was too sweet. "You're the one who came back from that terrible accident, aren't you? How fascinating."
"Some of us just don't know when to stay dead," I murmured.
Her smile faltered. Adrian's hand tightened around her arm.
Later, after the champagne had lost its sparkle and the crowd thinned, I slipped out onto the balcony. The night was cool, the city glittering below like a thousand secrets.
"Running away already?"
His voice again — behind me. I didn't turn.
"Just catching my breath," I said. "The air in there is… suffocating."
"I remember," he murmured.
I turned sharply. "Remember what?"
His gaze locked on mine. "The way you used to say that. The way you used to look at me — like I was the only thing keeping you alive."
My breath hitched. The words hung between us like ghosts.
"I don't know who you think I am, Mr. Hale," I said softly, "but you're mistaken."
He stepped closer — close enough that I could smell the faint trace of his cologne, dark and familiar.
"Maybe," he said, his voice a whisper, "but somehow… I don't think I am."
Our eyes met — a clash of memory and madness — and for one dangerous heartbeat, I wanted to tell him the truth.
That I was Lyra. That I remembered every lie, every touch, every shot that ended me.
But then I remembered the woman with the veil — her warning: Love always costs love.
So I smiled instead. "Then I suggest you stop chasing ghosts."
And I walked away, leaving him alone in the moonlight.
But as I reached the end of the balcony, I heard him call after me, voice low and certain:
"The dead don't stay buried forever, Elara. I should know."