Chapter 216

Chapter 216:

Sienna checked her phone. She had paid off a junior accountant at the now-defunct Solomon Industries — a man bitter about his severance — who still had access to Eliza’s old personal calendars.

“According to my source, today is her parents’ anniversary. She’s going to the cemetery,” Sienna said, sipping her drink.

Anson’s eyes darkened. “The cemetery p>

“If you want her back,” Sienna said, “you need to remind her of the past. Remind her why she owes you p>

Anson stood abruptly. He threw a hundred-dollar bill on the counter. “Stay away from me, Sienna. You smell like desperation.” He stormed out — but he didn’t go home. He headed straight for his car.

𝘙𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘰𝘯

Sienna watched him go, smiling quietly into her glass. The seed was planted.

“Are you nervous?” Dallas asked as they turned off the highway.

Eliza held a bouquet of white roses in her lap. “A little. They never met a boyfriend of mine. Anson wouldn’t let me date p>

“Husband,” Dallas corrected. His hand moved from the gear shift to rest firmly on her thigh.

“Husband,” Eliza repeated. The word tasted sweet.

They turned through the cemetery gates, the wrought iron looming overhead in the pale morning light.

In the rearview mirror, a black SUV followed at a discreet distance. Dallas’s eyes flicked to the mirror, then back to the road. His jaw tightened.

The air in the cemetery was crisp, smelling of damp earth and decaying leaves. The silence was the kind that pressed against one’s eardrums.

Eliza led Dallas through the rows of headstones, her boots crunching on the gravel path. They stopped beneath a large oak tree.

Diana and Arthur Solomon.

The granite was cold beneath Eliza’s fingertips. She knelt and placed the roses at the base of the stone.

“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad,” she whispered. Her throat felt tight. “I brought someone.” She glanced up at Dallas. He stood a few feet back, hands clasped in front of him, respectful and still. “This is Dallas p>

Dallas stepped forward and knelt beside her. “Sir. Ma’am p>

“He saved me,” Eliza told the headstone. “More than once p>

Dallas stared at the name Diana Solomon. A muscle ticked in his jaw. The name felt strangely familiar — an echo from a distant, harsher chapter of his life, a memory he couldn’t quite grasp, like a word caught on the tip of his tongue. He pushed it aside. This was Eliza’s moment.

In the parking lot, Anson lowered his binoculars.

He watched them kneeling together. From this distance, it looked like a proposal. It looked like intimacy.

Rage boiled in his gut, hot and acidic. That was his spot. His tradition. He was the one who brought the lilies. He was the one who paid the groundskeeper to keep the moss off the stone.

Remind her of the past, Sienna had said.

He reached for his phone.

Eliza’s phone rang, shattering the quiet.

She looked at the screen. Anson.

“It’s Anson,” she said, frowning.

Dallas’s expression hardened instantly. “Don’t answer p>

“If I don’t, he might show up.” She glanced around uneasily. “He knows where I am. He always knows p>

She swiped to answer. “What do you want p>