44.

Caelan sat in his massive office, his fingers steepled together as he stared at nothing in particular. The weight of silence pressed against him, but he didn’t mind it. Silence had always been his companion—his shield, his weapon.

But today, it felt heavier than usual.

Hope and Will stood in front of his desk, exchanging glances before Will finally cleared his throat.

"The position has been offered," he said. "Alina accepted."

Caelan exhaled, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. "Good."

"She seemed… happy," Hope added carefully.

Caelan merely nodded, but his hands curled slightly against the desk.

Will hesitated, glancing at Hope before gathering his courage. "Caelan," he began slowly, "why are you doing this?"

Caelan’s cold gray eyes lifted to meet Will’s, sharp and unreadable. "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean." Will crossed his arms. "If you wanted to help her, you could have done it openly. Instead, you made sure she got hired without her knowing you were behind it. Why?"

Caelan leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. The room felt too still, too quiet.

Then he sighed. A long, weary sound.

"It’s better this way," he murmured.

Hope frowned. "For who?"

Caelan didn’t answer. He simply stood, smoothing out the invisible creases on his black vest, and walked past them.

"Where are you going?" Will asked.

Caelan didn’t reply.

He slipped out of his office, moving through the hallways like a shadow. No one stopped him. No one dared to.

His steps were soundless as he entered another office—a smaller one, but still luxurious. It belonged to no one but him, though no one but a select few knew that.

From behind a glass wall, he could see into the meeting room.

And there she was.

Alina.

She was speaking to Ms. Davenport, her hands moving as she talked animatedly, her mismatched eyes bright with excitement. Her entire face was lit up in a way that Caelan had never seen before—not even when she spoke about books.

She looked alive.

She looked like she belonged.

And she had no idea he was standing there, watching from the shadows.

His fingers curled at his sides, his chest tightening painfully.

This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? For her to be happy? For her to find her place in the world, to have a future beyond him?

Then why did it feel like something inside him was fracturing?

Why did it feel like she was slipping further and further away, even as she was standing right there?

Her voice was muffled through the glass, but he could see the way she laughed, the way she nodded eagerly as Ms. Davenport spoke.

She didn’t need him.

She never did.

And yet, he—

He swallowed hard, pressing his palm against the cool glass.

He could have told her. Could have revealed himself. Could have let her know that he had been the one pulling the strings, that he had made sure she had this opportunity.

But what good would that do?

She would only question him. Question why he was still in her life when he had no right to be.

She was already trying to forget him.

And maybe, just maybe, he should let her.

But it didn’t stop the ache in his chest as he turned away, his reflection in the glass showing eyes that were far too hollow.

It didn’t stop the truth that clawed at the edges of his mind.

She was moving forward.

And he—

He was standing still.