Chapter 9

A few days after Julian left, Tristan showed up. I had been expecting him; if Julian could find me, it was only a matter of time before Tristan did too.

He arrived while I was sitting on the porch, feeding Ruby her lunch. He looked like a ghost of the man he had been two years ago. He was gaunt and pale, thin to the point of emaciation, looking as though a strong gust of wind might knock him over.

When he saw Ruby in my arms, a violent tremor racked his body, and he nearly collapsed to his knees right there on the grass. It took him a long time to speak. When he finally did, his voice was broken and shaking, barely rising above a whisper.

"Baby... is that our daughter?"

I glanced at him, keeping my voice as flat and cold as if I were addressing a stranger. "Your baby is dead. This is my adopted daughter. And our marriage is over. It has been for two years."

I had filed for divorce while living in Iceland, and the courts had granted it months ago. Irreconcilable differences, following two years of separation. There was absolutely nothing he could do to contest it.

Tears streamed down Tristan's face. His eyes were red and swollen, as if he hadn't slept in years. "That's not true. I ran a paternity test on the fetus in the jar, and it wasn't mine. She looks just like me, Rose. She's mine."

I signaled to the nanny, who quietly took Ruby from my arms and carried her inside, out of his sight. "Ruby is my daughter. No one else's."

Tristan didn't seem to hear me. His eyes remained fixed on the door the nanny had disappeared through, and he muttered to himself in a daze. "Ruby. You named her Ruby. It's beautiful, baby. So perfect."

I let out a cold, mocking laugh. "It's a fine name. But it's certainly better than Vivienne, don't you think?"

The second the words left my mouth, Tristan broke down sobbing and fell to his knees in the grass.

"Rose, do you have any idea how much I've missed you these past two years? I can't eat, and I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I just see you staring at me with that sheer hatred in your eyes. I hear our baby crying, telling me I didn't love her or her mama."

His voice broke. He wiped the tears from his face with his sleeve, gasping for breath as if he were drowning. "I know I was wrong. I know I messed up. I was completely blind, and I couldn't see what was right in front of me."

He suddenly lunged forward, trying to grab my wrist, but I jumped back out of his reach. He froze and stared at his empty hand, looking as though his entire world had just shattered.

"Rose... you still won't forgive me?" He forced a smile, but it was broken and painful to look at. "I know who I am now. I know what I want. Please, Rose. Just give me one more chance."

I waited until he was finished pleading. When I finally spoke, my voice was calm and resolute, leaving no room for argument.

"Tristan, we ended a long time ago. The second you and Vivienne plotted to steal my baby, we were done. There is no coming back from that. I'm not going back, and I never will. Stop following me. Stop making me hate you more than I already do."

I turned and walked inside, firmly closing the door behind me. He followed me as far as the gate but didn't say another word. Instead, he stood in the snow outside my house, remaining there all night long.

...

A few days later, Julian returned, bringing news.

Tristan had flown back to The Republic shortly after that night. He had suffered a complete mental breakdown and beaten Vivienne so severely that she was left permanently disabled. Now, he spent every day holding that glass jar of formaldehyde, whispering to it and singing lullabies to the fetus inside.

"I'm so sorry, Rose," Julian said quietly. "My brother and I... we both failed you."

After that day, Julian visited the town every month. Sometimes Tristan came with him, though most of the time, he wasn't lucid. The only time he seemed calm was when he was hiding in the shadows, watching Ruby and me from a distance. His eyes would fill with guilt, clouded by a desperate, obsessive love.

"Rose Mercer," he would whisper to no one but himself, the wind carrying his words away. "I hope you're happy. You deserve the world."