---- Chapter 19 The phone call came in the dead of night, jolting Bennett from a fitful, dreamless sleep. It was his private investigator. "We found her," the man said, his voice flat. Bennett sat bolt upright, his heart hammering. "Where? Tell me where she is." "Paris, sir. An apartment in Le Marais." Paris. The city they were supposed to visit for their anniversary. The city he had taken Aria to instead. The irony was a physical pain. He threw on some clothes, his hands shaking so badly he could barely button his shirt. He ran out of the apartment, nearly colliding with his parents, who had been staying in a guest room, trying to watch over him. "I'm going to find her," he said, his voice raw with a desperate hope. "I'm going to bring her back." To his surprise, his father didn't argue. He placed a hand on Bennett's shoulder. "Go," he said, his own eyes full of a weary regret. "Go and tell her you're sorry. Tell her we are all sorry." The flight across the Atlantic was the longest eight hours of his life. He paced the aisle, a caged animal, his mind racing. ---- What would he say? How could he possibly make up for the monstrous things he had done? He was terrified she wouldn't see him, that she had moved on, that she had a new life, a new man. The city felt alien, the streets a maze he couldn't navigate. He took a cab to the address, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. It was an art gallery. Small, chic, and full of light. And then he saw her. She was standing in the middle of the gallery, talking to a client. She was wearing a simple white dress, her hair cut shorter, framing a face that was... happy. She was laughing, a genuine, unburdened sound that pierced him to the core. His breath caught in his throat. He stumbled out of the cab, a man possessed, and ran towards her. "Kelsey!" She turned at the sound of his voice. The laughter died on her lips. Her smile vanished, replaced by a cool, polite indifference. It was the look a person gives a stranger who has mistaken them for someone else. "Bennett," she said, her voice calm, devoid of any emotion. "What are you doing here?" "| came for you," he said, his voice cracking. "Kelsey, | am so, ---- so sorry. I've been looking for you for months. | made a mistake. A terrible, unforgivable mistake." She said nothing. She simply pulled out her phone, opened her banking app, and showed him the screen. It was a record of the transfer from the Randolph family. "| believe we're even," she said, her voice flat. "You paid for my silence. The transaction is complete." "No!" he cried, grabbing her arm. "That wasn't me! That was my father! | didn't know! Kelsey, please, look at me." He was desperate, his carefully constructed composure crumbling. "| was a fool. | was arrogant and selfish and | destroyed the best thing in my life. | love you. | have always loved you." She tried to pull her arm away, but he held on tight. "Please, Kelsey. Come home." His desperation was attracting attention. People in the gallery were staring. Aman stepped forward. It was the man from the photo on his investigator's report. He placed a calm, firm hand on Bennett's shoulder. "| think you should leave, sir." "This is none of your business," Bennett snarled. "She's my wife." "Ex-wife," Kelsey corrected him, her voice like ice. She looked ---- at the man, a silent communication passing between them. Then she looked back at Bennett, her eyes cold and empty. "! don't know you. Please have this man removed." Two uniformed security guards appeared as if from nowhere. They each took one of Bennett's arms. "Kelsey, no!" he pleaded, struggling against their grip. "Don't do this! | love you!" The guards dragged him out of the gallery, his pleas echoing behind him. Kelsey watched him go, and then she turned her back. She took a deep, shuddering breath, a release of the last vestiges of her old life. She was free. "Are you okay?" The man-Judd-was at her side, his voice full of a gentle concern that was a world away from Bennett's frantic possession. She nodded, a slow, genuine smile spreading across her face "l am now." He smiled back, a warm, reassuring presence. "How about a walk? The sun is setting over the Seine." "I'd love that," she said. She took his arm, and they walked out of the gallery together, into the golden light of a Parisian evening, leaving the wreckage of her past behind for good.