TWISTED PROMISES (Twisted Path Book 2

Chapter 11

Words meant for her and her alone.

"Love isn't always loud. It doesn't have to be extravagant or perfect. Sometimes... the truest kind of love is quiet. Steady. A choice made again and again, no matter the circumstances. No matter the cost, the risks, or your differences. Because nothing else matters but that one person in the world who finally sees you."

I pause, eyes on the crowd—never on Amanda. Because she's already getting too much from me tonight, and I refuse to give her this.

These words aren't for her.

They're for the girl I'm picturing in my mind. Sitting across from me in that diner booth, working on her assignment the night I took her shift. The girl who holds my secret love of the stars. Of Greek mythology. The girl who looks at me like I'm more than my money. More than my legacy. More than my name.

"Love is the moments no one sees. The whispered promises. The comfort in the silence. It's what keeps you grounded when the world tries to hurt you... to break you."

My voice stays soft, careful not to give away more than the people in this room deserve. But inside, I'm unraveling, my heart splitting open with every word I utter.

"Real love doesn't demand attention. It doesn't need the spotlight. It just... is. Unshakable. Strong. Beautiful. Resilient. Even when everything around it falls apart. Hell, especially then."

I swallow hard. My gaze drops, blinking against the weight of the lie I'm speaking into reality.

"I think the truest, most sacred kind of love is the kind that saves you. Not by fixing what's broken, but by seeing you exactly as you are... and choosing you anyway. By showing you what actually matters. By breaking you down to the simplest parts of what makes us human... and then building you back up. With comfort. Understanding. Compassion and care. All without demands. Without expectations that come with strings or negotiated terms."

I lift my eyes again and force a smile. They shimmer with emotion I can't quite contain as I speak the words meant for my Andromeda.

My north star.

My guiding light.

It's more emotion than my mother would like, I'm sure. But I can't help it. And as I scan the crowd, one thing becomes painfully clear: They think they're witnessing a man baring his soul to the woman he loves. Which fits my mother's narrative perfectly.

But for me?

The only face I see—the only heart I'm speaking to—is across town.

Still believing in me.

Still waiting for me, even after all this.

This is for you, Becca.

Every word. Every breath.

Every vow I pretend to make tonight belongs to you.

I drop to one knee. And I don't miss the collective gasp from the room, like they're all thrilled to be a part of the spectacle. Privileged to witness the merging of two powerful families. Something they'll carry back to their small, curated lives and brag about.

Without any more fanfare, I reach into my jacket and pull out the misshapen velvet box. The one I damn near crushed last night as the reality of what I'd agreed to do settled in.

I open it carefully.

The gaudy, oversized diamond catches the light, blinding and ridiculous.

Only then do I look at Amanda and speak the words scripted for her.