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When I sit down across from my sister, she nods to one of her personal staff members, who pulls out a laptop and a stack of large, rolled-up construction drawings. I listen as they outline the project’s timeline, various stages of construction, and expected disruption to the current palace staff and myself.
It’s beautiful. Rowan changed her design from a modern mansion to a full-scale restoration. The three-dimensional images she’s created make my heart swell.
Rowan gets it. She understands this palace—this land. In her design, I see how much she belongs here. When I first met her, I thought Rowan was an outsider. I thought she’d never feel at home here—but her design shows otherwise. She’s restored this palace to what it was a century ago, while still maintaining all the eco features and modern touches her original design boasted.
It’s fucking perfect, and it makes me want to cry.
Big, bad Wolfe indeed.
When the presentation is over, Penelope glances at me. “Any questions?”
“Rowan,” I croak. Even saying her name is painful. I haven’t spoken it since I left Stirling, and I try to ignore the burning pain that slices across my chest when I say it aloud. I blink, trying to regain control over my aching body. “Will she be here?”
Penelope interlaces her fingers and rests them on the desk. She takes a deep breath and finally shrugs. “I told her it was her choice. We’ll break ground before she comes up here, but we’ll need her approval for some of the later stages of construction. That can be done through photos and email, but…”
“You’ve been talking to her?” Am I jealous of my sister for that? This ache in my chest feels like betrayal.
Penelope arches an eyebrow. “I had to take over the project, Wolfe. You left.”
Shame burns all the way down my throat. I left, when I should have stayed. I should have fought. I should have told Rowan how I felt, but I lost my chance.
She might not even come up here for the project that was meant to be the defining moment of her career.
I took that away from her.
“I’ll leave,” I say to my sister. “Rowan should be here. She deserves to see this project in person.”
My sister’s face softens ever so slightly. She dips her chin in agreement, then the stone mask returns to her features. I stand up, take my leave, and walk out of the office.
My feet take me next door to the library, where once again, I’m assaulted with memories of Rowan. She spent so many hours in here, drinking up scraps of information that she poured into the design.
I stare at the ashes in the fireplace before letting my gaze drift to the window, where the sun shines bright and snow melts all around.
This is as much her palace as it is mine, but I’ll never get to share that with her.
