Beneath the same sky

except for the occasional distant rumble of delivery trucks and the chirping of birds stretching their wings for the day

eling, windows patched with plastic in places where the glass had long since cracked. But inside was everything he cared about: his father, Luis

is pocket-the address of the Sinclair Estate, written in clean, looping script by a woman named Ma

in neat lines instead of wild tangles. The Sinclair Estate wasn't just another rich family's house-it was p

fter he pressed the button labeled "Staff Entrance." A voice-crisp, efficient, and slightly cold-had

of a fairy tale. He followed it until the house came into full view-three stories high with gleami

ied into a bun, stood near a hedge with pruning shears

early,"

aniel replied, brushing his hands on his je

tha will do. You'll be helping me with the garde

wns, the marble fountains, the scent of lavender. He wondered what it must feel li

se, came the sound of laughter-light an

t in the grass, her long dark hair catching the morning light like strands of silk. She held a sketchbook in one hand and a pencil in th

tha said quietly beside him

heat rushing to his face. "R

ou to keep your eyes-and your heart-in che

his chest. He didn't mean to stare, but something about h

ded flower beds, and carried mulch across the yard. Sweat dripped down his nec

The girl-Isabella-was still there, only now she loo

, empty smil

eart hammering harder than it had

t that smile would be the