Leonard's POV
One Year Later
I stared out the window of my office at the pack below, but I didn't see the skyline. I saw a pair of silver masks. I saw a red wig. I saw a woman who had disappeared into the night like a ghost.
A year. It had been 365 days since that night in the hotel, and I still hadn't stopped thinking about her. "Samantha." I knew the name was probably a lie, just like everything else, but the feeling of her in my arms had been the most real thing I had ever felt.
I picked up her undergarments that sat on my desk. I had kept them. They were the only thing I had left of her. It was strange—for a long time, I had been in deep mourning for Scarlett. The pain of losing her had been a heavy weight I carried every single day. But that night, Samantha had changed everything. For a few hours, she made me forget about Scarlett. She made me forget the grief and the pain.
