To Heal in Brooklyn’s Sunlight

I wasted seven years of my life on Caspian Hale.

To get rid of me, he got engaged to his childhood sweetheart.

At a summer party in the Hamptons, she framed me.

She took a dive off a terrace. All Caspian saw was my hand reaching for her.

He had me locked away in a psych ward upstate. "You're insane," he said.

For two years, they beat me with electric batons until I coughed up blood.

They cut out my uterus.

I lived every single day in pure terror.

I walked out of there with a lupus diagnosis and a death sentence.

And now, here he is, standing before me with red-rimmed eyes.

"Aurelie, I know the truth now."

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1

In all of New York, I was known for one thing: being Caspian Hale’s shadow.

It was a seven-year obsession.

I hadn’t cared. What was so wrong with loving someone with every fiber of your being? He was well aware of my fixation.

To finally rid himself of me, he got engaged. His fiancée was Isadora, a socialite and his childhood sweetheart.

It was at a summer party in the Hamptons that Isadora sealed my fate. She set me up, taking a swan dive off a terrace. The last thing Caspian saw was her falling, and my hand outstretched, as if I'd just pushed her.

He had me sent to the “Brook Valley Sanatorium” upstate, citing my unstable mental state.

Two years later, I was released.

The moment I stepped out, I saw a black Lincoln Navigator parked there, a stark contrast to the quiet surroundings.

I glanced at it and was about to walk away when someone called my name.

It was Caspian.

He looked more mature than he had two years ago. The chill that clung to him, a product of Wall Street, was even sharper now.

But I only allowed myself a quick glance.

The “counselors” at the sanatorium had taught me it was rude to stare, especially at someone who terrified you.

Two years. I was a completely different person now, remolded from the inside out.

He told me to get in the car, and I complied without a word.

I settled into the back seat, my gaze fixed on my own trousers.

Caspian sat next to me. I could feel his intense gaze, like a searchlight trying to pierce through me.

The air in the car was thick and oppressive.

I held my breath, afraid to make a sound.

However, a cough escaped my lips, raw and uncontrollable.

It was an old ailment.

The car stopped at a penthouse on Park Avenue.

His grandmother lived here.

If I remembered correctly, today was Mrs. Hale's seventieth birthday.

I had a sinking feeling I knew why he’d come for me.

"Cas… Caspian, I didn't bring a gift."

I hesitated before I said his name.

When he turned to face me, my heart hammered against my ribs, and I quickly dropped my gaze.

It wasn’t infatuation. It was pure, unadulterated fear.

I don't know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, my courage had been shattered.

The slightest glance from a stranger sent a jolt of panic through me.

At night, I would even have nightmares filled with countless pairs of eyes.

Caspian ignored me, simply gesturing for me to follow.

He was as cold as ever—or rather, that's how he always was with me.

I had to break into a small trot to keep pace.

"Sweetheart, you're back! Come on in." Mrs. Hale was waiting at the door.

She carried herself like an elegant, benevolent queen, and had always been incredibly kind to me.

She’d even encouraged my pursuit of Caspian, sometimes secretly tipping me off about his plans.

I walked over to her and said, "Mrs. Hale."

"Aurelie, why are you being so formal with me? Are you angry at me?" Eleonora Hale patted my head, her touch gentle and affectionate.

I shook my head to say no.

How could I be angry at her?

Two years ago, if she hadn't intervened, my fate would have been far worse.

That so-called “Brook Valley Sanatorium” was billed to the public as an “elite behavioral correction center.”