She thought she was the hunter, but she was merely the prey, a pawn in a game far larger than she could comprehend.
In the treacherous power struggles of Crownport, she was nothing more than a sacrificial piece.
Linton walked out of the police station and paused, tilting his head back to look at the pale winter sun in the crisp blue sky. The light wasn't blinding, but it carried a distinct chill.
He stood tall and straight, facing the sun, his eyes narrowed as a complex, unreadable storm of emotions brewed within them.
On the drive back, he passed a bakery with a colorful display of cupcakes in the window. He remembered how much Liliana loved those cute, intricately decorated little things. Whenever she ate one, her beautiful eyes would crinkle into happy crescents, her smile so sweet it could melt a man's heart.
Linton's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. The image of her huddled in the rocking chair, lost and broken, flashed through his mind, and a sharp, familiar ache seized his chest.
He made a sudden turn, pulling the car over in front of the shop. He went inside and bought every last cupcake they had.
The shop assistant was ecstatic. With one big sale, her daily quota was met. She beamed as she packed the boxes. "Sir, are these for your wife?"
Linton's gaze flickered. An unconscious, gentle smile touched his lips. "What makes you say that?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.
The clerk's eyes twinkled as she gestured toward his hand. "Well, you're wearing a ring. You must be married."
Linton instinctively glanced down at his right hand, where the engagement ring Liliana had designed for him sat. It caught the afternoon light, sparkling brilliantly.
A shadow passed over his features as he lowered his gaze. When he spoke again, his cool voice seemed to have warmed by a few degrees, with a hint of a smile he couldn't quite suppress. "Could you please do me a favor and write something on each of the boxes?" he asked. "'Wishing Liliana happiness every day.'"

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