Chapter 1

James Aldridge's gubernatorial campaign fundraising gala brought together Seattle's political elite, each person wearing a perfect social mask.

"Ms. Cross, pleasure to meet you." A middle-aged man approached with a wine glass. "I'm Senator Thompson. I hear you're getting back into political PR?"

"Yes, Senator." I flashed my professional smile. "Political communications is my specialty. I'm excited to start fresh here in Washington State."

While conversing with him, I scanned the ballroom with my peripheral vision.

'Three years of failed marriage drove me back from DC to this city I once fled, but maybe that's fate.'

Just as I was discussing an upcoming PR crisis with a partner from a major law firm, I noticed a tall figure in the crowd. His back was to me, engaged in intimate conversation with a blonde woman. Something about that man's shoulder line... felt familiar.

"Excuse me for a moment." I politely interrupted the conversation, almost instinctively moving toward that direction.

When the man turned around, my world suddenly stopped.

Roman.

Fifteen years. The first time I'd seen him in fifteen years.

The thin, sad 13-year-old boy had completely disappeared. The Roman Aldridge before me was a real man—at least six-foot-three, broad shoulders filling a perfectly tailored navy suit, sharp jawline showing mature charm. But what shocked me most were his eyes—those deep brown eyes that once held innocence now carried a power and... danger I'd never seen before.

The moment our gazes met, all sound in the ballroom vanished.

"Vivian..." Roman's voice had become deep and magnetic, nothing like the boy who once needed comfort. "I didn't expect to see you here."

I struggled to maintain my composure. "Roman, you've grown up."

'Grown up? He's completely transformed.'

"Roman, you know Ms. Cross?" The blonde woman holding his arm interrupted our stare. She was about 25, with the elegant bearing typical of political elite families. I immediately recognized her as Sarah Hamilton—the senator's daughter, Roman's potential fiancée.

"Yes, Sarah." Roman didn't look at her, his eyes still locked on mine. "Vivian once... took care of me. Long ago."

Sarah's expression grew displeased as she tightened her grip on Roman's arm. "Oh, that must have been ages ago. Roman rarely mentions his childhood."

Her words carried obvious possessiveness and warning. I understood—in her eyes, I was a threat.

'Her instincts are right.'

This thought shocked even me. How could I have such thoughts about a child I once cared for? But the Roman before me was no longer a child—he was a mature man radiating dangerous charm.

"I need to talk to you alone, now." Roman suddenly said, his tone carrying undeniable authority.

Throughout our conversation, he'd been ignoring Sarah, making her face increasingly sour.

Sarah tried to stop him, but Roman had already extended his arm, waiting for my response.

"Sarah, we'll talk later." His tone was so cold it surprised me. This wasn't how the gentle, dependent boy I remembered would speak.

I knew I should refuse. Logic told me being alone with Roman was dangerous, especially in such a public setting. But when I looked into his eyes, I found myself unable to refuse.

"Alright." I said softly, placing my hand on his arm.

'This boy has become a dangerous man, and I'm walking toward danger.'

As we walked toward the terrace under hundreds of guests' gazes, I could feel every eye in the ballroom on us. Whispers began, and I knew our names would definitely appear in tomorrow's political gossip columns.

But in this moment, I somehow didn't care.

Roman pushed open the glass door to the terrace. Seattle's night breeze brushed my cheeks. The city lights sparkled below us, but my attention was completely focused on the man beside me.

"You're still so beautiful, Vivian." He said softly, turning to face me. In the moonlight, his features appeared even more profound and mature.

My heart began racing again. "Roman, we shouldn't..."

"Shouldn't what?" He stepped forward, bringing us dangerously close. "Talk about the past? Or about now?"

His voice carried implications that made me feel both excited and terrified.

'This is wrong. Completely wrong. But why is my body trembling? Why do I want to get closer to him?'

"Your father's campaign is going well." I tried to redirect the conversation to safer ground.

Roman smiled bitterly. "Always politics, isn't it? Just like fifteen years ago."

His mention of fifteen years ago brought memories I'd tried to forget flooding back. Thirteen-year-old Roman, his despair after losing his mother, those nights when only I could comfort him...

"That was different, Roman. We've both changed."

"Have we?" His gaze grew more intense. "I haven't changed at all, Vivian. At least not when it comes to you."

What did he mean? He couldn't possibly still remember... couldn't still care...

The night breeze on the terrace carried a hint of coolness, and I tightened my shawl, only to find myself unable to escape from Roman's burning gaze. The lights of Seattle twinkled beneath our feet like those secrets buried by time fifteen years ago, now slowly resurfacing moment by moment.

"Do you know what I've been thinking about every single day for these fifteen years?" Roman's voice was low and dangerous as he stepped closer, almost pressing against my body.

I instinctively stepped back, but the railing was right behind me. 'Damn it, why did I come out here with him?' "Roman, let's just let the past stay in the past. We both have our own lives now..."

"The past?" He interrupted me, a flash of pain crossing his eyes. "That day when you held me and said 'you're not alone,' I never forgot it."

My breathing stopped instantly. How could he still remember those details? Those scenes I thought had been diluted by time suddenly rushed back like a tide.

"Do you remember the day of my mother's funeral?" Roman continued, placing his hand on the railing, trapping me between him and the night.

I closed my eyes, trying to stop the flood of memories, but it was too late.