Chapter 48: His White Moonlight

Lara returned to the living room and said her goodbyes.

Madeline, Logan, and Lucas walked her out, with reluctant steps.

Liam, on the other hand, had disappeared toward the guesthouse, chasing after Layla’s storm.

The warmth from earlier had thinned out, replaced by that polite, careful quiet people wore when something unsaid still hung in the air.

Ares and Shay were already waiting for her in the car. The engine’s revving betrayed the man’s impatience, as he never wait on anyone. He was used to being waited on.

Outside, the January night air was crisp. Cold enough to bite.

The Norse estate lights glowed gold against the darkness, long shadows stretching across the driveway like reaching hands.

At the entrance, General Leonard stood with a small group of old military friends, their laughter low and rough, the kind carved from years of smoke and gunfire.

Boots. Broad shoulders. Hard faces.

Men built from war.

One of them stood slightly apart.

Artemio Fueguerra.

His guard hovered behind him like a silent sentinel, unmoving, watchful.

Lara slowed without meaning to.

Something about him always felt… off. Like a knife hidden in velvet.

For a second, his gaze drifted past her, and unknowingly softened when it landed on Madeline.

Softened.

It was faint. Gone in a blink.

So quick, Lara almost convinced herself she imagined it.

Because a man like that didn’t look at anyone gently.

Then his eyes met hers.

Cold. Sharp. Unreadable.

Whatever warmth had been there vanished completely, like it had never existed.

Leonard clapped Artemio on the shoulder and said something under his breath.

Artemio gave a short nod and looked away.

By the time he glanced back, Lara had already slipped into the black Bentley.

The door shut with a muted thud.

Across the driveway, Madeline had turned her back, her figure elegant beneath the lights, hair catching the glow like silk.

Still beautiful.

Still graceful.

Time had spared her. Or maybe it had simply never dared touch her.

If anything, it seemed to move around her, careful not to leave a mark.

For a second, the present loosened its grip.

Her retreating figure blurred, and the years peeled back.

…

A younger Madeline stood beneath a sprawling acacia tree, the kind that stretched wide like it wanted to shelter the whole campus.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, painting her in flickers of gold.

She wore a lemon-yellow summer dress, bright and alive, sunflower prints dancing along the hem.

It hugged her waist before flowing down her legs, playful with every breeze. Her straight black hair fell to the small of her back, glossy and heavy, hiding the delicate V of her spine.

She didn’t walk.

She drifted.

Like she didn’t belong to the dust and noise of the world.

Artemio had noticed her earlier at the ring hop ceremony—just a plus-one, someone’s quiet companion.

No one important.

Except she was.

The second he saw her, everything else went out of focus.

So he followed.

Not close enough to look suspicious. Just close enough not to lose her.

When she finally broke away from her group, fate cracked the door open.

He grabbed it.

“Miss… Miss, you dropped something.”

His voice was younger then—lighter, confident, careless. A boy who had already become a man.

She turned.

And his heart stuttered.

Heavens!

Her eyes.

They shone like stars in the night—bright, alive, impossible to ignore. Even the tiny crease between her brows couldn’t ruin her face.

“That’s not mine,” she said, glancing at the pink handkerchief in his hand.

Her voice was soft. Warm.

The kind that slid straight under your skin.

His pulse started hammering.

Then she smiled, and something in him stirred. A desire so strong that he was sure he fell in love at first sight. It was not that he hadn’t experience love. It was just the pretty woman awakened something within him, something he felt for the first time.

And that was it.

Game over.

It wasn’t like he’d never dated. Never wanted someone.

But this, this felt like getting hit by lightning.

Sudden. Violent. Irreversible.

Like his life had just split into before and after.

“Fuegerro, you’re here. Been looking for you.” A deep voice came from behind.

He didn’t look back or look away from her.

He couldn’t.

Not when she was right there, smiling like the world was kind.

But Leonard stepped into his space.

And her attention shifted.

Just like that.

The smile, the one that knocked the air out of him, wasn’t for him.

It never was. He felt an ache in his heart.

“Honey, that’s mine. Have you forgotten?”

A syrupy voice slid in from behind.

Chloe.

Her arm coiled around his like a snake, tight and territorial.

Possessive.

Artemio’s jaw clenched.

His hands disappeared into his pockets, fists curling hard enough to hurt.

Something dark stirred in his chest.

Something ugly.

“Hi! I’m Leonard Norse, and you are?” Leonard asked smoothly, offering his hand.

She took it.

Her eyes stayed on him.

“Madeline. You can call me Addie.”

Addie.

The name stuck.

Chloe smirked. What an old-fashioned name.

“I’m Chloe,” she said brightly, fake-sweet. “And this is my boyfriend, Artemio. I call him Mio… because he’s mine.”

Mine.

Like he was property.

Like he belonged to her.

Artemio’s expression hardened.

But then—

Addie turned to him and extended her hand. Just a simple gesture.

And suddenly the world slowed.

He slipped on his most charming smile, the one people trusted too easily, and took her hand.

Held it.

A second longer than necessary.

Her skin was warm, soft, real.

He memorized it.

Because something in him knew—

This moment would haunt him.

“Boss! Boss!”

Rocky’s voice cut through like a blade.

The memory shattered.

…

“Let’s go,” Artemio said, His voice became like steel.

His plans should proceed.

…

Inside the car, Lara didn’t see it but Artemio hadn’t looked away.

Not once.

His stare followed Madeline like a shadow stitched to her steps.

Slow. Heavy. Haunted.

Something old moved behind his eyes.

It was longing, regret and something darker.

His jaw tightened.

His hands curled into fists at his sides, leather gloves creasing.

Years. It had taken years.

The night wind stirred his coat.

At last, he turned toward the waiting car behind him and spoke quietly to his guard.

Just two words.

Low enough that no one else could hear.

The guard stiffened.

Then nodded.

The Bentley’s taillights disappeared past the gates.

Artemio watched until the last red glow vanished into the dark.

Only then did he smile.

Thin… Humorless…

Like a man finally standing at the doorstep of something he’d been waiting a lifetime to finish.

And somewhere behind the estate, a second engine started and followed the Bentley.

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