Page 113 of Punishing His Runaway Bride
But those green eyes, that face identical to mine at five years old, the way she leaned into me—all these coincidences piled together until I could barely breathe under their weight.
I woke up early the next day.
Almost an hour before my alarm. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling,running through what I needed to do today. Teach. Observe. Stay calm. Don't let any emotion leak out where it shouldn't.
I was there to teach ballet.
That was all.
When I arrived at the house, Ms. Carmen answered the door. Same as yesterday—polite, proper, leading me upstairs.
I followed her down the hallway, past the half-open study door, past the tapestry I couldn't identify but knew was expensive. This time, I didn't look at those things. I looked at something else—at the end of the hall, a row of photos on the wall. All of Juliet. One year old, two years old, three years old, smiling in every one.
No family portraits. No photos of a father.
I looked away and headed upstairs.
Juliet was already in the studio. She wore a pale blue ballet dress today, hair in a bun tied with a matching ribbon. When she saw me, she jumped off her chair and ran over to grab my hand.
"Vivi! You're here!"
"I'm here." I crouched down to her level. "What do you want to learn today?"
"I want to learn how to spin! Like in Swan Lake!"
"All right, we'll learn spins today."
The lesson went for about forty minutes. During the break, Juliet sat on the barre ledge, legs swinging, hugging her stuffed bunny. Then she spoke up.
"Vivi, do you have kids?"
I froze. "Why do you ask?"
"Because when you hold me, you hold me really well," she said. "Like how mommies hold their kids."
My fingers tightened.
"I've never met my mommy," Juliet continued, her tone matter-of-fact, like she'd accepted this long ago. "Carmen says she left a long time ago."
"Juliet..."
"It's okay," she said, looking down and fidgeting with the bunny's ear. "I have Daddy. Daddy's very good to me."
I took a deep breath and pushed down the sourness rising in my throat.
"But there's this lady who comes to our house a lot. I don't like her."
"Why not?"
"She's mean to the staff. And she won't let me have snacks. Once I snuck some chocolate and she locked me in my room. Wouldn't let me out." Her voice got smaller. "Daddy doesn't know. I didn't want to tell him. He's too busy."
My fingers dug into my skirt.
"Does this lady... is she mean to you?"
Juliet nodded. "She talks really loud. I don't like her. But Daddy keeps letting her come over." She paused. "Last month she came and said a lot of things to me."
"What did she say?"
