Luna Davenhart arrived in the bustling B City, a vibrant urban hub strategically located near the prestigious central hospital and the capital. This newly chosen residence felt like the perfect temporary refuge—a tranquil oasis for her to reconnect with her roots after years of absence. Despite the enticing lure of more convenient locales, she consciously shunned the glitzy options typically favored by high-profile personalities and celebrities. The last thing she desired was to attract unwarranted attention. Unfortunately, her mode of transportation—a sleek, new black Bentley Flying Spur—did little to maintain her anonymity. With a bemused sigh, she made a mental note to consider a more inconspicuous vehicle as she settled into her new surroundings.
Cars had always been her passion, an irresistible obsession nurtured from childhood. Each one she owned was akin to a cherished child, revered for its unique character and intricacies. As she prepared for a potentially extended stay in C Country, leaving her beloved vehicle behind was simply not an option. With tenacity and unwavering dedication, she ensured that her prized possession journeyed alongside her, an indispensable part of her life.
Upon stepping into her new home, Luna felt a surge of anticipation wash over her. The space exuded a low-key charm, meticulously designed and furnished with modern conveniences that promised comfort and functionality. Eager to create a conducive environment for her research, she immediately set to work organizing her labs and gathering her essentials—a project long suggested by her professor and one she felt compelled to undertake. This seemed like the perfect moment to delve deeply into her studies in a country that had been absent from her life for far too long, a place ripe for discovery and exploration.
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**Blackthorne Residence**
"Sir, are you alright?" Giles Ashford inquired, his perceptive gaze glued to the young master before him, sensing an unusual tension radiating from Felix.
Having devoted nearly fifteen years of his life to the service of the Blackthorne family, Giles was astutely aware of the intricacies of his young master's demeanor. For weeks, he had noticed a distinct shift in Felix, a shadow lurking ominously behind his usual confident facade. Though he had hesitated to inquire about it, the weight of concern compelled him to breach the silence.
"Nothing, Giles. Do you think I'm incapable of managing my own affairs? Is that why you feel the need to question me?" Felix Blackthorne retorted, his tone cool and detached but tinged with an undercurrent of irritation. A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes as he noticed Giles's regret, the older man's concern palpable in the air.
Felix was acutely aware that Giles could sense the turmoil brewing within him, yet he was resolute in maintaining his carefully crafted facade. He welcomed no probing questions that might expose his vulnerabilities, even from those closest to him. Initially, he believed only his mother and brother possessed the ability to read him, but he was now faced with the reality that even Giles had managed to catch a glimpse of his hidden struggles, though not as deeply as his family, it still weighed heavily on him.
"Never, young master. You possess extraordinary capabilities. From a tender age, you've demonstrated an exceptional aptitude for handling everything that comes your way. I would never dare to question your abilities, sir," Giles reassured him, sincerity threading through his carefully chosen words.
The Blackthorne family loomed large in Country C, their influence formidable and their lineage a tapestry of exceptional talent. All family members were expected to engage in the family business from a young age to grasp its core values and ethical foundation. Yet, unlike his peers who merely understood the mechanics of the enterprise, Felix thrived in it. The notion of questioning his young master felt absurd and entirely inappropriate.
"Well, good for you," Felix shot back, his voice carrying an edge that promptly silenced any further discussion. Giles fell silent, fully aware of the veiled warning hidden within those words. It was a reminder that Felix was unafraid to sever ties with anyone who might dare question his loyalty.
The truth remained undeniable—Giles Ashford was among the most fiercely loyal protectors of the Blackthorne family.
With a strong physique that belied his years, Giles exuded determination and competence far beyond the expectations of his middle age. His loyalty was unshakeable, underscoring the bond he cherished with the family he had served unwaveringly.
"You may go now," Felix commanded, gesturing dismissively.
Once Giles had departed, Felix allowed himself a moment of respite, closing his eyes in a futile attempt to usher in sleep. Yet, it seemed slumber had no intention of yielding to him that evening. His mind was ensnared by thoughts of a single individual—his one true love. It was a secret he had never shared with anyone, a treasure buried deep within the recesses of his heart. The longing to support and indulge her was overwhelming; he'd gladly uproot mountains for her. Regrettably, she remained a figment of his dreams, elusive and untouchable.
In this moment of solitude, Felix grappled with an unprecedented sense of restlessness, a helplessness so foreign it twisted uncomfortably within him. For the first time in his life, he felt cornered by emotions he struggled to comprehend, recognizing his inability to find a feasible solution. Those who knew him well would be astonished to learn that he was capable of love—a profound emotion that eclipsed everything else in his life, a revelation that stood in stark contrast to the fearless persona he had crafted.
He was ruling the world, and yet she was holding him hostage. Her memories brought nothing more than pain to him, it was haunting him. The ghost of her memories was everywhere he looked, as much as it paralysed him, he did not wish to forget, he did not wish to let them go. Her memories were the only thing that made his life worth living, that made him go on with his life. They were the only thing grounding him in reality, though he wished to simply drift away more than anything else.