Selina stood motionless, the black file still in her hands.
The photographs felt heavier now.
Not because of the paper.
Because of what they meant.
Years.
He had been watching her for years.
Not casually.
Not coincidentally.
Carefully.
Consistently.
She looked through another photograph slowly.
She was eighteen in this one, seated at the far end of a long dining table during a Vale family gathering. Elara stood beside Damian, smiling confidently while guests surrounded her with attention.
And Selina—
she sat quietly at the edge of the frame.
Almost invisible.
But the camera had focused on her.
Not the celebration.
Not Elara.
Her.
Selina's chest tightened faintly.
She remembered that night.
It had been Elara's academic award ceremony. Selina had spent three weeks preparing the event personally because Livia insisted "family image mattered."
No one had thanked her.
By the end of the evening, she had developed a fever from exhaustion, but still helped clean the banquet hall after everyone left.
No one noticed she disappeared early.
Except—
her fingers tightened slightly around the photograph.
Lucian had noticed.
Selina slowly closed the file.
The silence between them no longer felt empty.
It felt exposed.
"You said you protected me," she said quietly.
Lucian stood across from her, calm as always.
"Yes."
Selina looked at him directly.
"From what?"
For the first time since arriving, Lucian didn't answer immediately.
His silver eyes held hers for several long seconds before he finally spoke.
"More things than you realize."
That answer frustrated her instantly.
Selina exhaled sharply and set the file down on the desk.
"You keep doing that."
Lucian's gaze remained steady.
"Doing what?"
"Answering questions without actually answering them."
A faint silence followed.
Then Lucian walked closer slowly.
Not invading her space.
But enough that she could feel his presence more clearly.
"If I tell you everything now," he said quietly, "you'll stop trusting your own judgment."
Selina frowned slightly.
"That should be my decision."
"Yes," Lucian agreed immediately.
That answer caught her off guard.
Because there was no argument in it.
No control.
Only acceptance.
Lucian continued quietly.
"But you are still recovering memories while trying to separate them from your current reality. If I force everything onto you now, you'll begin questioning every thought you have."
Selina looked away for a moment.
Because part of her hated how reasonable that sounded.
And another part hated that he understood her reactions so precisely.
The room grew quiet again.
Outside the glass walls, the city lights shimmered beneath the dark sky.
Selina finally spoke again.
"When did you start watching me?"
Lucian answered this one immediately.
"When you were sixteen."
Selina's brows tightened slightly.
"Why?"
This time his silence returned.
But it was different from before.
Not avoidance.
Carefulness.
As if the answer itself carried consequences.
Finally, he spoke.
"Because you disappeared."
Selina stared at him.
"That makes no sense."
Lucian's expression remained unreadable.
"You vanished from every projected outcome for seventy-two hours."
The words settled heavily in the room.
Selina frowned immediately.
"Projected outcome?"
Lucian ignored the interruption.
"When you returned, your behavior had changed slightly. Not enough for others to notice."
A pause.
"But enough for me."
Selina's chest tightened faintly.
Something about those words felt wrong in a way she couldn't explain.
Not impossible.
Familiar.
And that familiarity unsettled her deeply.
She folded her arms slowly.
"What happened during those seventy-two hours?"
Lucian's gaze darkened almost invisibly.
"That," he said quietly, "is the one thing I still can't fully see."
Silence.
Selina turned away slightly, trying to organize her thoughts again.
Too many things no longer fit together properly.
Her rebirth.
The fragmented memories.
The strange messages.
Lucian speaking about outcomes and projections as if he had lived through them repeatedly.
And now—
a missing period in her past.
Her pulse slowed slightly as another thought surfaced.
"When I was younger," she said carefully, "there were moments I couldn't remember clearly."
Lucian didn't interrupt.
Selina continued slowly.
"Small things. Places. Conversations. Faces."
A pause.
"I always assumed it was stress."
Lucian's voice lowered.
"It wasn't."
The certainty in that answer sent a chill through her.
Selina looked back at him sharply.
"You know something."
"Yes."
"Then tell me."
Lucian's jaw tightened slightly.
"You were taken."
The room went completely still.
Selina stared at him.
"…What?"
"You disappeared for three days because someone took you."
Her heartbeat stumbled once.
No.
That wasn't possible.
Or maybe it was.
Because suddenly—
very faintly—
something flickered inside her memory.
Rain.
Cold pavement.
A black car door.
And silver eyes.
Selina inhaled sharply.
Lucian moved immediately.
"Selina."
She stepped back before he could reach her.
Her breathing had become uneven now.
Not panic.
But pressure.
Too many fragments colliding at once.
"You're saying I was kidnapped?"
Lucian's expression remained steady, but she noticed the tension beneath it now.
"Yes."
"By who?"
"I don't know."
That answer sounded genuine.
And somehow that frightened her more.
Selina pressed a hand lightly against her temple.
The memory fragments were becoming sharper again.
Not complete.
But enough to disturb her balance.
She remembered fear.
She remembered crying.
And she remembered someone saying—
"We found her too early."
Selina froze.
The words echoed through her mind so suddenly that her entire body stiffened.
Lucian noticed immediately.
"What did you remember?"
Selina looked at him slowly.
"There was a voice," she whispered.
Lucian's eyes sharpened instantly.
"What did it say?"
Selina swallowed slightly.
Then repeated softly—
"'We found her too early.'"
For the first time since she met him—
Lucian lost composure.
Only for a second.
But she saw it clearly.
His expression darkened sharply.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
And anger.
Real anger.
Selina stared at him.
"You know what that means."
Lucian looked away briefly, jaw tense.
When he finally spoke again, his voice was colder than before.
"They were never supposed to find you as a child."
Silence crashed through the room.
Selina's chest tightened painfully.
"What do you mean, 'find me'?"
Lucian looked back at her slowly.
And for the first time—
there was something almost dangerous in his silver eyes.
"Selina," he said quietly, "the Vale family was never meant to keep you."