Chapter 143: The Autopsy Result

My throat tightened as uncertainty washed over me."I... I’m not sure," I said quietly.

The words felt small, but they were honest.

Lewis didn’t rush me. His fingers brushed my cheek, light as if he were afraid to startle me. His eyes stayed on my face, steady, watching every flicker of doubt.

"Would it upset you," he asked softly, "if we had crossed that line?"

There was hesitation in his voice.

That was when I realized something important.

He wasn’t testing me.

He was afraid.

Afraid I would resent him. Afraid I would feel taken instead of chosen.

"It would," I admitted.

The moment the answer left my mouth, the warmth in his eyes dimmed. Regret settled over his features, quiet and heavy.

"I’m sorry," he said at once. "I didn’t mean to "

I lifted my hand and placed it gently over his lips.

"Listen to me," I said. "When I say I’d feel upset, it’s not because of you."

He went still, waiting.

"It’s because I don’t feel like I truly belong yet," I continued, my voice unsteady. "Not fully. Not the way I want to."

He met my eyes, patient, giving me space to finish.

I took a breath.

"The truth is... Julian and I were together for years. But the only time we ever crossed that line was after too much drinking. The next morning, I couldn’t even remember how it happened."

Shame crept into my chest, but I pushed through it.

"It’s not about last night," I said. "It’s about how, once again, I let myself disappear into a blur. That kind of closeness should be shared when both people are awake, present, choosing each other. I want to feel it. To remember it."

For a moment, Lewis just looked at me.

Then he smiled.

Not triumphant. Not relieved.

Gentle.

He pulled me into his arms and held me, steady and warm.

"Nothing happened," he said simply.

I stiffened and looked up at him.

He leaned closer, his voice low and sure. "That kind of bond matters too much to be taken. I made a promise to myself long ago. I would wait until you gave it freely."

Warmth spread through my chest, slow and deep.

"Lewis," I whispered, "you’re a good man."

"I still prefer it when you call me Carl," he said softly.

His hand cupped my cheek, tender. "After all, I’m the one who met you first."

Something shifted.

Time felt like it folded in on itself, and memories I hadn’t touched in years stirred awake.

From the time I was eight, Julian had made it clear I wasn’t allowed near Lewis. Whenever I crossed paths with him, his distant gaze would freeze me in place. I would nod quickly and run off, pretending I didn’t care.

But I did.

When I was ten, I climbed a peach tree, reckless as always. I slipped, branches shaking, petals raining down like snow.

I never hit the ground.

Strong arms caught me.

A soft groan escaped him as he took the impact instead.

"Carl, are you hurt?" I blurted out, panic flooding me.

He reached for my hand, his grip warm and steady. A faint smile curved his lips.

"So," he said, "you didn’t forget me after all."

Now, years later, that same smile was still there. Older. Wiser. But just as kind.

I sighed softly. "If Julian hadn’t kept us apart... would we have found each other sooner?"

He pulled me closer, his voice gentle but firm.

"I’m the lucky one," he said. "I should be grateful that what I thought I lost was returned to me."

We held each other, hearts beating in quiet rhythm.

For the first time since my past life ended in tragedy, I didn’t feel anger toward fate.

Only gratitude.

For a long time, I couldn’t understand it.

Why was the one who ended my life allowed to walk free, while gentle people were always taken too soon? It felt cruel. Unfair. Like the world had made a mistake.

But now, standing here, I finally saw it.

Everything had a reason.

Maybe fate had been kinder to Lewis than I ever realized. Maybe my second chance wasn’t meant for revenge or regret but for love. For saying the words I never had the courage to say before.

After drinking, Lewis was nothing like Julian.

There was no pressure. No taking. No sense of being cornered.

I stayed.

I didn’t want to leave.

It wasn’t until I was washing up that I noticed them faint marks scattered along my skin. Soft. Almost faded.

Lewis wasn’t young. And he had never crossed that line with anyone before.

It must have taken everything in him to stop.

My face burned as I stared at my reflection. Even though my memory failed me, the thought of his calm expression lowered over me, his attention slow and deliberate, made my heart race.

So embarrassing.

When I finally stepped out, he was already dressed, seated near the window. The morning light softened his features, making his gaze look almost gentle.

"Come here, Darling," he said.

The nickname used to make me cringe. If it came from anyone else, I would’ve rolled my eyes or worse.

But from Lewis?

His voice was low, smooth, carrying warmth that settled deep in my chest. His face looked unreal, like something drawn instead of born.

I used to think I didn’t care about looks.

Now I knew better.

Julian had narrowed my world without me noticing. I’d been taught to look only at him, to measure everything by his approval. I never let myself see anyone else clearly.

But Lewis saw me.

And because he did, I began to see myself differently too.

"What?" I asked when he studied me quietly.

He pulled me closer without effort, settling me against him. His arms wrapped around my waist, secure but gentle. He leaned in, his breath warm near my ear.

"I won’t disappoint you," he murmured.

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Our first night together," he said softly, steady as a vow, "will be something you’ll remember clearly. Something you choose. You can look forward to it."

Heat rushed to my face.

I bit my lip, unsure how to respond.

"Okay," I whispered at last.

Something between us shifted.

After last night, I no longer pulled away from his touch. And now, instead of fear, I felt anticipation. A quiet excitement that scared me more than desire ever had.

Then his expression changed.

"Elena," he said, his tone sharpening just slightly, "I just got word from the station. The report on Nolan is out."

The warmth drained from the room.

"What’s wrong?" I asked.

"There were no signs of alcohol or drugs," he said carefully. "He was clear-headed. Fully alert."

My chest tightened. "Then what happened?"

"The car was tampered with," he replied. "And the road where it crashed had been treated to be dangerously slick. The vehicle broke through the guardrail."

My breath caught.

"What about Camilla?" I asked urgently. "That was her car. She asked Nolan to go there. This can’t be a coincidence."

Lewis’s jaw tightened.

"It isn’t."

And just like that, the quiet safety I’d begun to feel cracked open reminding me that pack shadows don’t disappear simply because love finally finds its way home.