His tone was resolute, brooking no doubt. "The real Tristan Sterling could never forget her, and could never fall in love with you."
"No…" Chloe Sinclair shook her head, her voice flustered as she stumbled half a step back, as if trying to escape this suffocating truth. "Then that day at the hotel… the front desk said you carried me into the room… how do you explain that? You weren't… clearly you…"
Tristan stared at her, his gaze sharp as an ice blade, and enunciated each word: "Every feeling I showed you was fake. That day I slipped the front desk a red envelope and had them lie."
His tone was even, yet it came down like a heavy hammer, shattering her last shred of fantasy.
He raised his hand, the movement gentle yet firm, and lightly wrapped his fingers around Vivian's.
The moment their fingertips met, it was as if some long-overdue vow had finally been sealed.
