(Aaron's POV)
I shake off the memory, but it clings like smoke.
That's why I never came. I was already dead, my body burning with my mother's, while Sanya waited at the crossroads for a future that died in the fire.
My hands clench again, and I watch them fade further. More transparent than an hour ago.
Seventy-two hours. That's what the Creator granted me when I begged, when I prayed through the darkness for one more chance.
Not to live. That's beyond even divine mercy.
But to make sure Sanya finds happiness. Safety. A life worth living.
I thought that meant helping her marriage to Tyron work. But after what I saw last night, the way he beat her without mercy...I begin to doubt myself.
How can Sanya live with a man like that?
I move through the mansion like a ghost—which is exact
