“Anne—”
She shook her head once, stopping him. “Let me finish.”
He fell silent immediately.
Anne took a breath, steadying herself. “I did not leave because I stopped wanting you. I left because I was terrified of what wanting you meant, and because I thought if I chose distance first, I would not have to lose you in a way I could not manage.”
Her gaze lifted to his, unflinching in a way that was new. “But I have realized something: leaving you did not make the feeling go away. It only made it sharper, and it made me feel lonelier.” She stepped closer without letting go of his hand. “And I cannot keep pretending that what is between us is something I can simply decide not to feel.”
Dorian did not speak. He only looked at her as though waiting for permission to believe what he was hearing. Anne did not look away, and neither of them moved to let go.
The ensuing silence did not break immediately. It settled around them in the small room, heavy but no longer hostile, as though the air itself was adjusting to the fact that neither of them had walked away.
Dorian still held her hand, seemingly afraid to let go. Anne studied him for a moment longer before speaking again, her voice quieter but steadier than it had been since he arrived.
“What are you going to do about Lady Vivian?”
The question did not come with an accusation. It came with something more careful, as though she needed to understand what kind of man she had chosen to stand beside before she could fully remain there.
Dorian’s expression tightened slightly at the mention of that damned woman’s name. He did not look away, though the change in him was immediate, the grief and anger and clarity all resurfacing at once beneath the exhaustion.
He would never see Lady Vivian again, nor would Anne, no matter how important her family was to his business.
His business meant nothing if it jeopardized his marriage, and so the choice was quite simple.
“I will not allow her to do this again,” he said slowly, choosing each word with care. “I will make sure she never does it to anyone else again.”
Anne did not respond immediately. She watched him carefully, searching his face as if trying to understand where the promise ended and his intention began.
Dorian continued before she could misread him. “What she did to you, to me, to everything between us was not careless. It was deliberate, and I will not let it remain unchallenged. She might think that she can do as she pleases, but she is wrong, and I am going to ensure she knows that.”
“Are you suggesting that we ruin her?” she asked carefully.
“We are going to stop her,” Dorian clarified, his voice hardening. “Permanently. Legally, if I have to. She will not be given another opportunity to interfere in anyone’s life the way she interfered in ours.”
Anne held his gaze for a long moment, recognizing the line he was drawing and what it cost him to stand on it.
“Holloway was also involved, but he will not escape the consequences either,” he continued. “I will not allow it. Your mother might well be furious about it, but I cannot say that I care. She did this to you, after all.”
The words were simple, but they carried finality.
“I do not want you to be consumed by revenge.” Anne’s voice lowered slightly.
“It is not revenge,” he said. “It is simply the consequences of their actions.”
A pause followed.
Anne looked down briefly at their joined hands before looking back up. “You rode through the storm to tell me that?”
Dorian held her gaze. “I came because I could not stay away any longer and pretend that fear was a good enough reason to lose you.”
Anne’s breath caught faintly, though she did not look away.
Outside the room, the house was quiet, the storm still battering against the windows, but inside there was no longer the sense of despair that had followed them for days.
“Then do it properly,” she demanded.
Dorian frowned slightly. “Do what?”
