Dominic’s POV
I don’t dream much anymore but when I do, it’s always the same, a woman’s laughter fading into the sound of waves, a baby’s cry I can never quite reach, and then silence.
Liana called me last night. She didn’t say much, she just called my name, clipped and shaking. Then she hung up.
The photo sits on my desk. My fingers hover above it like it might burn me if I touch it again. Elia, smiling. Me the younger, stupid me and the baby, it wasn’t Camilla.
I trace the outline of the child’s small face, the fine blond hair, the eyes that look like mine or maybe hers. The past I’ve spent years burying is clawing its way back up and this time, it’s wearing Stanley’s fingerprints.
Of course he’d show Liana this. It’s exactly his style, weaponize truth and let the fallout do his wor
