Outside, in the dark sedan, Mo Yichen watched the light in the master bedroom turn off.
He let out a long, ragged breath, his hand resting on the door handle.
He wanted to go in.
Every fiber of his being screamed at him to go inside, to climb into that bed, to hold her. He wanted to tell her that Lixuan was gone. He wanted to tell her that he wasn't her father.
But the memory of her face at the resort, the fear, the accusation in her eyes when she called him a tyrant, held him back.
She needed space.
She needed to feel safe without him hovering over her. She needed to know she was in control.
So he started the engine, kept the headlights off, and simply sat there, guarding his castle from the outside, unaware that inside, three hearts were beating for him instead of one.
***
The alarm clock didn't need to ring. I had been awake since 4:00 AM, staring at the empty expanse of the mattress beside me.
The sheets on Yichen's side were cold. Pristine. Uncomfortably flat.
