With the guards gone and the lawyers dismissed, the estate felt like a vacuum. William walked out to the terrace, drawn by the “Magnet” that had pulled him for six months.
Victoria was sitting on the stone bench by the hydrangeas. She wasn’t pacing. She wasn’t hiding. She was watching the sunset.
William approached slowly. “Elena?”
She turned. The fear that had defined their interactions since the wedding crash was gone, replaced by a strange, hazy calm.
“It’s quiet,” she said, her voice drifting. “The angry lady… she’s gone?”
“She’s gone,” William confirmed, sitting on the other end of the bench.
Victoria looked at him. For the first time, she didn’t see a stranger. She saw the man who had screamed for her in the church, the man who had fought the world to keep her close.
“I don’t know why,” Victoria whispered, looking at her hands. “But I feel… I feel like I’ve sat on this bench before. With you.”
William’s heart hammered against his ribs. The amnesia was thinning. The “Divided Heart” was no longer divided; it was coming home.