Chapter 147

EMILIA

The doors swing open and I stop dead.

At first, I think Liam’s dragged me into a museum. The ceilings are high, light spilling in through a skylight. Everything gleams—glass, stone, polished floors. But it’s not the building that steals the air from my lungs.

It’s what’s inside.

Sculptures.

Everywhere.

Some stand tall and smooth, carved from pale marble. Others twist in dark bronze, caught mid-motion like they’re about to move again. A few are glass—fragile and glowing—throwing tiny rainbows across the floor when the light hits them.

I stop walking. My breath catches. The room is so quiet it almost hums, like even the air’s afraid to disturb the art. My footsteps echo when I move, and for a second, I feel like I’m walking through someone else’s memory.

When I glance back, Liam’s still by the door—jaw tight, shoulders drawn. He’s not looking at the sculptures.

He’s looking at me.

I walk back to him. “Liam. What are we