Lilian's POV
A sudden flutter seized my chest, an unwelcome echo from years gone by. The memories crashed over me in waves.
There was Armand in that pristine white button-down, the wind whipping through my hair as he pedaled us both to campus on his motorcycle.
I could see his patient hands again, sketching out calculus equations on whatever paper he could find, his gentle voice breaking down each concept until understanding dawned.
I remembered the steaming coffee he would press into my palms on cold mornings, somehow always knowing exactly what I craved.
And then came the image that still haunted me: his bloodshot eyes filled with desperate pain the day before my wedding, his voice breaking as he pleaded, "Lilian, you don't have to do this."
The cascade of sensations and emotions - that intoxicating blend of safety, youth, and soul-crushing remorse - slowly retreated back into the locked chambers of my heart. With their departure came a strange peace, the restless spirits of my past settling once more.
I pivoted slowly, and there stood Armand. The years had refined him into something even more devastating. Those compassionate eyes, now framed by sophisticated gold wire glasses, still possessed that dangerous warmth capable of melting the most frozen souls.
The Atlas bloodline had truly been blessed by the gods.
Both men were breathtaking in completely different ways. Augusto commanded attention with his razor-sharp sophistication and arctic beauty, while Armand drew people in with his magnetic gentleness and approachable charm.
"It's been too long," Armand murmured, approaching with that devastating smile that once made my knees weak.
I managed a controlled smile in return. "Yes, it has."
We used to lose ourselves in conversations that stretched until dawn, never lacking for words or laughter. Now, standing mere feet apart, the silence stretched between us like a chasm.
In that moment, clarity struck me like lightning: some wounds heal in ways that leave permanent scars. What we once shared had been beautiful, delicate, and belonged entirely to yesterday.
Alesha's eyes darted between Armand and me before she laughed knowingly. "Lilian's available again, you know. This might be your second chance."
Armand's gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that made my pulse stutter for reasons I didn't want to examine.
Before he could speak, I practically stumbled over my words. "I really should head out. There are things I need to handle."
"Lilian." Armand's fingers wrapped around my wrist, quick and desperate. Pain flickered across his features. "Are you avoiding me?"
"That's not it," I said, my mind racing for an escape.
I belonged to Augusto now, in whatever twisted way that arrangement worked. But even if Augusto weren't in the picture, Armand and I were impossible. What I'd felt for him had been a schoolgirl's infatuation, pure and simple.
Everything had shifted since then. I was no longer that naive girl, and my heart had learned different rhythms.
Armand's stare didn't waver. "About what happened to your family, I wanted to say-"
"We're managing fine, thank you. And please don't listen to Alesha's teasing. You know how she enjoys stirring up trouble," I interrupted, my voice sharper than intended.
Armand's gaze dropped, a bitter smile ghosting across his lips. "So even with Augusto out of the picture, there's still no room for me?"
I opened my mouth to respond when my phone exploded into sound.
Augusto's name blazed across the screen, and my heart slammed against my ribs. I yanked my hand free from Armand's grip.
Had Augusto returned home to find me missing? The thought of facing his fury made my finger hover uncertainly over the answer button.
When the ringing died, I immediately dialed Alicia. "Has Augusto come back yet?" The relief that flooded through me when she said no was almost dizzying.
Armand continued watching me, his expression unreadable. "You're divorced, but you're still his prisoner?"
"I'm sorry, Armand," I whispered. "Please, just let me go." I fled toward the restroom before he could respond.
If we had no future, I refused to torture him with false hope. A clean amputation was agony, but it was merciful compared to slowly bleeding out from reopened wounds.
I fumbled to return Augusto's call, my hands trembling. I'd ignored his first attempt and could only pray he wasn't seething.
It was darkly amusing how completely the tables had turned. Once, I'd felt so secure in his presence, and now I was tiptoeing through a minefield. How dramatically the mighty could fall.
Augusto answered and released a low, chilling laugh that sent ice through my veins.
My heart thundering, I rushed to explain. "I'm so sorry. I was sleeping deeply. I heard your call but you'd already disconnected by the time I could answer."
"Really?" Augusto laughed again, the sound slow and predatory. "What are you doing right now?"
I hesitated, then replied carefully, "Still in bed. Your call woke me. I'm just lying here talking to you." I caught sight of my reflection in the bathroom mirror and was almost impressed by my own steady composure. I'd become dangerously skilled at deception.
Augusto's laughter intensified, becoming something cold and hollow that made my skin crawl. There was something profoundly disturbing about a man who rarely smiled being consumed by such joyless mirth.
"Did I interrupt something pleasant?" he asked, his tone deceptively casual.
I forced lightness into my voice. "More like a terrible nightmare, actually. Your call was perfectly timed. Things were getting genuinely frightening."
Another quiet laugh drifted through the speaker. Each time he did it, my nerves coiled tighter. This felt like exquisite torture.
Then his voice flattened. "Tell me exactly where you are right now."
The question hit me like a physical assault. For one terrifying moment, I felt exposed, as if his eyes were somehow on me.
I crept to the bathroom door and peered out cautiously. Empty hallway. Of course it was empty. My guilt was creating phantoms.
Besides, he was surely occupied with his precious first love. Why would he be lurking around some random bar? He'd always despised such places anyway.
Feeling marginally braver, I answered steadily, "I'm at home, obviously. Where else would I be sleeping?"
That haunting laugh returned. If he continued this psychological warfare, I was going to shatter completely.
"Excellent. How very excellent," he said suddenly.
The tone was too silky, too pleasant. It twisted in my gut like a blade, and my chest constricted with familiar, bone-deep terror. Something was catastrophically wrong.
My heart hammering against my ribs like a caged bird, I forced the words out. "What about you? When should I expect you home?"
He said smoothly, "Me? I'm enjoying a drink."
The word 'drink' electrified the air between us. "Where?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"At a bar. Care to join me?" His voice dropped to something almost seductive, but it froze my blood solid.
"No, no... I really need my sleep," I stammered before severing the connection.
That was the curse of living lies. It sharpened every instinct, made you dissect every syllable, and inevitably the house of cards would collapse.
For now, I could only cling to the desperate hope that Augusto had been truthful, that he was simply having drinks somewhere and checking on me out of habit.
Regardless, I couldn't remain here another second. I had to return immediately. I burst from the bathroom, determined to offer quick farewells to Armand and Alesha before vanishing.
But the moment I emerged from the corridor, powerful fingers seized me. Before I could process what was happening, I was crushed against the frigid wall.
I gasped as something warm and demanding claimed my lips. A scent I knew better than my own surrounded me completely.
Shocked, I stared up into the devastatingly handsome face hovering inches from mine, cold amusement dancing in those familiar eyes. It was Augusto.