The car, which had been moving for a few hours that felt too long for Christian, finally came to a stop, and with barely suppressed emotion, he pushed the door open and stepped out.
Unlike the mansion they had in Minnesota, what stood before him here in Washington was a simple two-story house with a small garden.
Compared to the grand estate, it was almost shabby.
But at this moment, Christian didn't give a fuck.
His gaze moved immediately to the two women standing near the entrance.
No — more precisely, to one of them.
The one with brown hair and green eyes identical to his own.
And he couldn't help but pause.
He took her in slowly.
Her hair, now long — longer than before, ever since she had stopped cutting it short back when her life had been nothing but work. It fell loosely, almost carelessly, as if even now, without someone to care for, she wouldn't bother with it at all.
Then the shirt.
His shirt.
Worn on her as though it had always belonged there.
