LUCIEN’S POV

“You don’t… you don’t remember?”

Naomi’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the thick silence like a blade. Her eyes searched mine, wide and glassy, waiting for something—recognition, maybe, or forgiveness. I had none to give.

“Remember what?” I snapped, the words tasting like ash. Anger flared hot in my chest, chasing away the cold shock that had settled there moments ago. “What the hell am I supposed to remember, Naomi?”

She flinched, but didn’t back down. Andrea pressed closer to her side, his small hand fisted in her dress. She took a shaky breath, then another, like she was steeling herself for a...