My heart slammed against my ribs.
I looked at the old silver chain hanging against his chest.
There was a tiny metal pendant attached to it.
A crescent moon.
The same pendant I had given him on the night he disappeared.
I had made it myself.
Cheap silver.
One tiny scratch across the back.
And on the inside, I had engraved four words.
Come back to me, Alex.
My hands began trembling.
Alexander noticed.
“Who are you?”
I couldn’t answer.
He pushed the wheelchair forward.
“Look at me.”
I did.
And for one terrifying second, I saw the nineteen-year-old boy I had loved behind the face of the forty-year-old billionaire sitting in front of me.
The same gray eyes.
The same slight scar above his eyebrow.
The same habit of clenching his jaw whenever he was confused.
I whispered the name I hadn’t spoken in twenty years.
“Alex?”
His face changed.
Completely.
The cold billionaire disappeared.
His lips parted.
Nobody spoke.
Then he whispered:
“Who told you that name?”
I started crying.
And that was all the confirmation I needed.
Twenty years earlier, I had been nineteen.
