Ella stood at the edge of a thousand flashing lights—camera crews, gala gowns, champagne flutes clinking in the air.
She wore silver tonight.
Not for elegance.
But because silver didn't bleed like red.
She raised a glass as the emcee announced her as "Global Woman of the Year."
But her smile?
Didn't reach her eyes.
Not since the day he vanished.
Not since the letter.
The world finally gave her everything—fame, applause, power.
But it all felt like a perfectly tuned violin missing one string.
She had waited.
A week.
Then a month.
Then three.
She scoured headlines, watched financial markets collapse without warning—Hart Corporation stocks vanishing overnight.
No one knew where Leon went.
But every city she visited…
Every award she received…
Somehow, someone had always cleared the path before her.
As if the ghost of him still moved silently through the shadows, cleaning up the glass he once shattered her with.
She was a lighthouse now—bright, revered, guiding millions.
But lighthouses never move.
They stay still.
Waiting.
And Ella had begun to realize—she wasn't shining for the world.
She was shining in case he needed to find his way back.
That night, alone in her penthouse, she received a package.
No return address. No stamp.
Just her name.
Inside:
A flash drive.
She plugged it in, heart pounding.
The screen flickered—grainy security footage from a remote mountain village in Switzerland.
The timestamp read: 3 days ago.
And in the frame—
A man in black, feeding stray dogs in the snow, back turned, unmistakable profile.
Leon.
And a child.
A little girl, maybe four.
With eyes exactly like hers.