ELIJAH'S POV
I watched her walk past me, her chin high, her hand steady in the child's grasp. Unbothered. That was the only way to describe her. Unbothered.
Meanwhile, my mind was splitting at the seams.
Seven years. Seven fucking years since she had burned to the ground. Seven years since I had forced her to sign away her inheritance, believing I had finally ended it all, only to realize too late that it hadn't been her signature at all. She had outplayed me even then. But it had been fine. Because she was dead. Blessed in fire.
Or so I had believed.
I had convinced myself that three bodies were exhumed from that fire, that Valentine wouldn't have let her walk free. That there was no way.
Yet here she was. Alive. Whole. With a child.
My gaze landed on the boy again.
She had said she had a husband. But I didn't believe it. I couldn't believe it.
Before I could stop myself, the words were out of my mouth.
"Hey."
Imogen stopped in her tracks and turned.
