It’s as if the world has fallen still around us. The truth she’s just spoken hits me like a rock—suddenly, so much makes sense. And at the same time, nothing does.

“You woke up in a procedure room,” I find myself repeating as I try to process this. “Did James… Who…?”

“My father was behind it,” she says, not looking me in the eyes. “I know that much. James… James certainly knew. And did nothing to stop it. The baby wasn’t any more convenient for him than it was for my family.”

The enormity of this finally sinks in, and white-hot rage fills me, burning from the inside out. They took her baby against her will, snubbed out its life because it was inconvenient to them. So much of Justine’s sadness and fear suddenly makes sense—her distrust, her resistance to love, all of her attempts to pull away from me. She’s been hurt far worse than I ever imagined, betrayed in an unspeakable way by the men who should have been protecting her.

My hands have curled into fists, and I’m squeezing them so tight that my nails are digging into my palms.

I’m going to kill them—every single one of them. I’m going to hunt down James Camden, wherever the hell that bastard is, and pound in his skull. And then I’m going to return to Rosvalia and do the same to King Maximilian. I don’t care if I start a war. Those men will pay for what they’ve done to her. They won’t get away with this.

The quartet’s cellist coughs, snapping me out of my murderous thoughts and reminding me that we aren’t alone. I wave my hand at them, gesturing for them to begin playing again, but dancing is the last thing I want to do. I also shoot a glance at the officiate, but he seems to know he’s not needed yet. He stands by the door, well out of earshot.

And then my eyes fall on Justine again. She’s still not looking at me, but even though her eyes are on the floor, I can still see how much telling me this has cost her. How hard and how long she’s fought to bury the horrible truth.

I reach toward her, placing a hand gently on each of her cheeks and lifting her gaze. Her face is pale, and her eyes shimmer with unshed tears. The profound sadness I detected in her has finally broken through to the surface, plain for me to see, and she looks so scared and vulnerable that it pains me to even look at her.

“Justine…” I’m surprised to hear my voice break as I whisper her name. “Justine, I will never let that happen to you. I’ll never let those men—or anyone—ever hurt you again.” I step closer to her, letting my arms fall to pull her to my chest. “I swear it on my life, Justine—I’ll protect you. I would die before I let anyone betray you like that ever again.”

Her forehead falls against my shoulder. Her tears don’t fall, but I can feel the sadness and the emotional exhaustion in her body. And I’m sure she can feel the emotions in mine—the heartache for her, the anger at her father and her former lover, the restless tension I feel at not being able to do anything to undo the past. Once again, murderous thoughts flood my mind—don’t want to rest until James and Maximilian pay for what they’ve done.

But there are more important things than revenge. And they’re both in my arms right now. With a deep breath, I try to force myself to relax, try to push the anger out of my body.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel…” I shake my head and start again. “I’m sorry for ever doing or saying anything that might have made you believe I might hurt you like them. I’m sorry for being so insensitive to—”

“You didn’t know,” she says, lifting her face and looking up at me. “I…I should have told you before, but…”

“I never really gave you a reason to trust me,” I finish for her. “And even though we were married, we were still virtual strangers for much of that time. And this isn’t exactly something you share with a stranger.” I twine my fingers through her hair. “I don’t want to be strangers anymore, Justine. I want to know all of your fears and pains so I can protect you from them.”

“I don’t want to be strangers either,” she whispers back. “I want to be husband and wife.”

“You still want to marry me?”

She nods. “I just wanted you to know…to know the full truth before we did this.” Her eyes glitter, but the tears still don’t fall. “What happened to me is… It’s not going away. I’ll always carry that pain with me. And I think it’s only fair that you know. I can’t promise that I…” She steps back, letting her hand fall to her belly again. “I can’t promise that I’m going to be okay all the time. I think about that child that was stolen from me every day. And getting pregnant again has only made it so, so much worse.”

My thumb strokes her cheek. “You don’t have to be okay. Just promise me this—you’ll let me stay by your side to support you. That you’ll turn to me when the pain seems too great to bear, and ask for my help when you need it. And that you’ll allow me to protect you—and our child—from anything that might harm you again.”

She nods. “I promise.”

Hearing those words gives me more joy than I expected—and in her eyes I finally see the trust I’ve been trying so hard to build, now freely given.

“And I promise to spend the rest of my life living up to what you deserve,” I continue. “Earning your love and your trust over and over again, every day we have together.”

Her eyes are shining, but this time, it’s not from tears.

“Let’s get married,” she says.

Yes. Let’s finish starting over.

With a smile, I drop my hand from her hair and take her fingers in mine. As the quartet continues to play, I lead her over to the officiate. Right on cue, the musicians switch to the Montovian Wedding March, and Justine smiles, too.

The officiate is ready for us. The next few moments go by in a blur—the officiate has us repeat our vows to each other, but they pale next to the promises we just made in the middle of the ballroom. And as I stare down at the wondrous women beside me—the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known—I see my own feelings reflected back in her eyes. Today, we made a choice—the choice to trust each other and ourselves. The choice to stick together and have each other’s back against all obstacles. The choice to begin again.

It was a beautiful, exquisite choice, and at the same time, as I look deep into her eyes, I know there was never any choice at all.