Chapter 22
In the days that followed, Sterling’s routine had only two constants-sending people to search for Aurora, and returning to the place he used to live when he was disowned by the Blackwood family.
It wasn’t a pleasant residence by any means.
The roof leaked when it rained, the wallpaper was peeling, the damp had settled into the bones of the place-but he didn’t
mind.
Because this was the only place that still carried her scent.
The only place where his restless, guilt-ridden soul could find the faintest sliver of peace.
He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the familiar yet unfamiliar room. It was familiar because of the traces Aurora had left behind her warmth, her touch, her quiet presence. And unfamiliar, because back then, he’d been blind. He had never
truly seen any of it.
The only reason he could navigate the space at all was because of her patient guidance.
She had taught him how to walk again, how to reach out and find balance in a world of darkness. She had memorized his every habit and adjusted the room so he could live without stumbling.
She had never asked for anything in return.
Her love had always been quiet, never boastful. But it had soaked into every corner of his life.
Sterling’s vision blurred.
Tears, silent and warm, slipped down his face.
His phone buzzed, jolting him from the past. It was his assistant.
“There’s news on Miss Aurora,” the man said. “She’s in Australia. Currently preparing for an interview at a design firm.”
Sterling sat up, heart pounding.
He had been anxious and sleepless these past days, dreading the silence, haunted by regret. Now that he finally knew
where she was, that she was alive and well…
He still felt a flicker of fear,
What if she refused to see him?
What if she could never forgive him-for not recognizing her, for the pain he had caused, for every cruel word he had spoken?
“Book me the next flight,” he said at once, grabbing his jacket. “I’m going to her.”
“But, sir…” His assistant hesitated. “You haven’t rested in days. A long-haul flight in your condition-”
“I said now.”
The steel in Sterling’s voice left no room for protest.
His assistant fell silent and rushed to start the car.
By the time the jet streaked across the sky, carving a silver line through the blue, Sterling was already on board-tense,
exhausted, but resolute.
Back in Sydney, it had just begun to rain.
Aurora had planned to celebrate passing her interview by going out for dinner, and had even invited Lucien Hale to join her. But with the weather taking a turn, she frowned at the window in mild annoyance.
Lucien chuckled at her expression.
“Didn’t you say you’re a great cook, Chef Wyndham? Since it’s raining and eating out’s a pain, why don’t we just stay in and
make pasta or something?”
“Actually, my friend just sent me a care package from back home with some amazing sauce. We could give it a try.” His words instantly lit up Aurora’s face.
“I was just complaining the pasta sauces here are so bland! Sterling, you are officially my hero!”
“Then I’ll make my signature braised ribs to go with it.”
“And I’ll do the dishes.”
They grabbed umbrellas and headed to the nearest grocery store.
But as they passed a large puddle on the sidewalk, a Jeep sped by, splashing dirty water in all directions.
Before Aurora could react, Lucien grabbed her and pulled her into his arms.
“Careful!”
Their bodies collided, chests flush, noses nearly touching.
Aurora froze.
She could smell the faint scent of cedarwood on him, clean and understated. She looked up-and for the first time, really
looked at him.
His lashes were absurdly long, casting delicate shadows over his eyes.
She stared, momentarily dazed.
Lucien’s ears turned red. He didn’t move, didn’t even breathe.
“…Aurora?” he asked, voice low and unsure.
She snapped back to herself, heart pounding wildly.
“I-I think the supermarket’s just ahead,” she mumbled, stepping away quickly. “Let’s hurry before the rain gets worse.”
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Lucien didn’t reply. He simply walked beside her, holding the umbrella above them both.
What she didn’t notice was the quiet smile tugging at his lips.
He was almost glad his own umbrella had broken this morning.
Almost.
