Aurelia's POV
Happiness, I discovered, could make a person careless.
Not careless in the sense of forgetting important things.
Careless in the sense of believing that, for once, the universe might allow you to enjoy something without immediately testing it.
I had returned from Italy with a ring on my finger, a fiancé who smiled every time he thought I wasn't looking, and approximately a thousand photographs that Vincent insisted were necessary for documenting our trip.
I had threatened to delete half of them.
He had backed them up.
I was considering legal action.
Then Ava arrived.
She appeared at the office one Tuesday morning, carrying a folder and asking for me by name.
I recognised her immediately when she introduced herself.
She had once been one of my mother's students, and I remembered hearing about her years earlier.
She was composed, well-dressed, and clearly nervous about something.
"Aurelia Vale?"
"Yes?"
"I'm Ava. Your mother taught me."
My expression warmed.
"Oh! Of course. How have you been?"
We exchanged a few pleasantries before her attention shifted towards the corridor.
Towards Vincent.
The change in her expression was subtle.
But I noticed.
"Is that Vincent Montclair?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
She stared at him for a moment.
Then she turned back to me.
"He promised he would marry me."
I went still.
For a second, I thought I had misunderstood her.
"I'm sorry?"
Ava's face tightened.
"He promised me we would get married."
The office seemed to fall silent around us.
I looked towards Vincent.
He had heard her.
I could see the confusion on his face.
Then something else appeared.
Fear.
Not guilt.
Not recognition.
Fear.
"Ava," he said carefully, "I think there's been a misunderstanding."
She shook her head.
"No. I know what he told me."
I watched Vincent's expression change as he tried to understand what she meant.
He looked at me.
And I saw the question in his eyes.
Do you believe me?
I wanted to reach for him.
I wanted to tell him that I knew the man he was.
But I also knew that whatever Ava was talking about needed an answer.
So I looked at her.
"Would you mind explaining exactly what happened?"
She hesitated.
For the first time, uncertainty crossed her face.
Then she said, "I thought he would tell you himself."
And with that, she walked away.
The rumours began before lunch.
By the afternoon, someone had photographed Ava speaking to Vincent outside the office.
By evening, a gossip account had published a headline suggesting that Vincent Montclair's engagement was facing trouble.
I stared at the screen in disbelief.
"We haven't even announced our engagement publicly!"
Vincent sat beside me.
"I know."
I turned towards him.
"Did you ever meet her?"
"Not that I remember."
He sounded frustrated, but beneath it was something I recognised.
Fear.
The kind that made him question every detail of a situation because he couldn't bear the possibility that he had overlooked something important.
I took his hand.
"Vincent."
He looked at me.
"I love you."
His expression softened.
"I love you too."
"Then we find out what's happening before we let anyone else decide what our relationship means."
He nodded.
But the next day, when Ava appeared again and repeated her claim in front of several colleagues, I realised how quickly a misunderstanding could become a story people wanted to believe.
Vincent remained calm.
He asked Ava for details.
She gave him very few.
She seemed convinced that he knew exactly what she was talking about, and every time he denied remembering the promise, her expression grew more distressed.
Finally, I asked her to speak with us privately.
She refused.
"I have nothing to hide."
"Neither do we," I replied.
She looked at Vincent.
Then at me.
"I thought he loved me."
The words landed heavily.
I could see the effect they had on Vincent.
Not because he loved Ava.
Because he was watching the woman he loved being forced to hear a story that made him appear to be someone he wasn't.
I wanted to take his hand.
I wanted to tell him that we would work through this.
Instead, I asked Ava one question.
"When did he make this promise?"
She gave us a date.
Vincent's expression changed.
He looked at me.
Then at her.
"That is impossible."
"Why?"
"Because I was not where you think I was that day."
Ava stared at him.
"Then who was I speaking to?"
Nobody answered.
Not immediately.
But something in the way she asked the question made my thoughts shift.
Perhaps she wasn't lying.
Perhaps she genuinely believed what she was saying.
And perhaps the answer had nothing to do with Vincent doing anything wrong.
That evening, Vincent sat beside me in silence.
I put my phone aside.
"Talk to me."
He looked down at his hands.
"What if this destroys everything?"
I turned towards him.
"It won't."
"You can't know that."
"No. I can't predict the future."
I took his hand.
"But I know you."
His eyes lifted to mine.
I squeezed his fingers.
"And I know that we shouldn't punish each other for something we haven't understood yet."
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he leaned forward and rested his forehead against mine.
"I don't want to lose you."
I closed my eyes.
"You're not losing me."
He held me close.
I stayed there, listening to his breathing gradually settle.
Then I pulled back.
"Vincent, I think we need some space to work this out."
His expression changed.
"Space?"
"Not a breakup. Not the end of us."
I touched his cheek.
"But the rumours are getting worse, Ava is convinced she has a claim on you, and neither of us has an answer yet. I want to find out the truth without letting every conversation turn into another argument about whether you love me."
He looked at me.
"And what do you want me to do?"
"Give me time to investigate. Don't chase every rumour. Don't let the media turn you into someone who has to prove his innocence to strangers."
He swallowed.
"And us?"
I hugged him.
"We're taking a break from the noise, not from loving each other."
He held me tightly.
For a moment, I felt him struggle to speak.
Then he whispered, "I can do that."
I kissed his cheek.
"I know."
And when I left that evening, I carried the ring with me.
I wasn't giving up on Vincent.
I was going to find out who had made Ava believe she had a promise from him.
Because if there was one thing I had learned as a lawyer, it was this:
A claim was not the same as the truth.
And I intended to find the truth.
The Heavenly Drinks
I began with the date Ava had given us.
I reviewed the available records, checked the places she mentioned, and followed every detail that could be verified.
Nothing fit.
Until I found a name.
Raze.
It appeared in a conversation Ava had reluctantly shared with me. She had met someone who looked exactly like Vincent. Someone who knew details about his life. Someone who had spoken to her with enough familiarity that she had believed him.
The meeting had taken place at a bar called Heavenly Drinks.
I went there that evening.
The place was crowded, with low music and conversations blending into one another.
I showed the bartender a photograph of Vincent.
"Have you seen this man?"
He glanced at it.
Then his expression changed.
"Not him."
He pointed towards the far end of the room.
"Someone who looks like him."
I followed his gaze.
A man stood near the counter, his back turned towards me.
The same height.
The same shoulders.
The same familiar way of holding himself.
My heart began to race.
"Raze?"
The man turned.
And the world seemed to stop.
It was Vincent's face.
Not similar.
Not vaguely familiar.
The same face.
The same eyes.
The same features.
For one impossible second, I thought I was looking at my fiancé.
Then the stranger smiled.
"You're Aurelia."
I couldn't move.
"Who are you?"
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he answered.
"Raze."
My hand trembled as I reached for my phone.
I called Vincent.
He answered immediately.
"Aurelia?"
"Come to Heavenly Drinks."
His voice sharpened.
"What's happened?"
I looked at the man standing in front of me.
"Just come."
I ended the call.
Then I looked back at Raze.
"Who are you to Vincent Montclair?"
His expression changed.
And for the first time, the confidence disappeared from his face.
"I'm his brother."
I stared at him.
"No."
He swallowed.
"I know what you've been told."
I shook my head.
"No. Vincent's brother is dead."
Raze looked at me.
Then he said the words that would change everything.
"That's what our father wanted everyone to believe."