Chapter 42 The Echo Of Who I Was

• ZOE
• The sun pours in through the tall windows, caressing the bone‑colored silk carpet as if peace were real. The cup of coffee warms my palms, its aroma familiar—almost comforting—though I can’t pinpoint why. I’m wearing a loose white dress, unmarked, without a past. Outside, the city hums with Geneva’s elegance, like a moving postcard—perfect, pristine. Yet something tightens my chest when I shut my eyes. Something nameless. Something Ethan can’t fully erase, no matter how hard he tries.
• He smiles at me from the other side of the table. He’s in a casual—but outrageously expensive—linen suit, each crease deliberately calming. His voice, when he speaks, carries the exact warmth of manipulation disguised as care.