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<\/figure>\n\n\n\nA young waitress approached, carrying two plates with effortless poise. She appeared no older than twenty, dressed modestly, yet there was a quiet strength in her demeanor. As she set Nathaniel\u2019s meal before him, their eyes briefly met.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In that instant, he froze.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Something in her gaze struck him like a powerful wave \u2014 familiarity, recognition, a memory buried deep in time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Fifteen years ago, precisely.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYes, sir?\u201d she said, noticing his sudden pause. \u201cAre you alright?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Nathaniel\u2019s throat tightened. \u201cWhat\u2026 is your name?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The young woman hesitated. \u201cAurora, sir. Aurora Bennett.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Vivienne\u2019s expression darkened. \u201cNathaniel, what are you doing? She\u2019s just a waitress.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But Nathaniel couldn\u2019t tear his eyes away. His heartbeat quickened. \u201cAurora\u2026 may I know your last name?\u201d She frowned in confusion. \u201cI\u2026 I\u2019m not sure. I grew up in foster care. I was told I was abandoned as a baby.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The wine glass slipped from Nathaniel\u2019s grasp, crashing onto the floor. The nearby conversations ceased. A hush fell over the entire restaurant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Vivienne\u2019s face went pale.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" A soft murmur of New York\u2019s high society floated through the elegant restaurant, blending with the gentle clinking of crystal glasses. Nathaniel Sterling, a man whose reputation ruled boardrooms for decades, sat at the central table. His posture was flawless, his custom suit pristine, and beside him was his wife, Vivienne Cross, radiant in a…<\/p>\n
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