Chapter 2
“What’s this?”
Harley fished a woven bracelet from the counter. Olive drab cord, darkened with old blood, a tarnished silver
shell casing knotted through the clasp.
I looked up recognized it instantly. The paracord bracelet I’d made for Gabriel years ago.
Back then, he wasn’t a Colonel with shining stars on his collar.
He was just a boy whose father’s corruption scandal had gotten him kicked out of The Base to rot. I’d found him under a streetlight in winter, curled up in a snowbank, his hand snagging the hem of my jeans.
Despite my mother Victoria’s protests, and Preston’s, I’d brought him home. Spent my allowance on a private doctor. Coaxed him back from fever and delirium one degree at a time.
At sixteen, Gabriel became my little shadow.
He covered for me when I snuck out of the compound. He stood vigil when I got detention. He threw the first punch when I was bullied, took the beating meant for me until his face was bruised and swollen.
Later, when we first fell in love, we kissed in the gardenia bushes behind The Estate, grinning like two kids who’d gotten away with something.
Until he turned nineteen and insisted on the hardest overseas deployment.
“Wait for me, Hazel.”
“Once I earn my merits and clear my father’s name, I can come back and give you a proper wedding.”
He kissed my hair, over and over.
“I’ll come back. Only you. Forever.”
I cried and baked all night-his favorite cake-and stuffed the bracelet into his duffel bag. Victoria and Preston never liked him, but they couldn’t stand my tears. They eventually used the Vance family connections to pave his first steps.
In two years, Gabriel’s name started appearing in military dispatches. A commendation from the border. Then another. Field promotions stacking up one after another.
The day he transferred back to Command, my hands shook so hard I could barely hold the phone.
But that same day, the truth about my birth exploded.
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I wasn’t a Vance. The nanny had switched me at birth. My biological parents were fishmongers at the
market.
When the biological daughter, Violet, came home, Victoria held my hand and promised: “Even with Violet
here, you’re still a Vance.”
Preston ruffled my hair, smiling. “Just another place setting. Nothing changes, Hazel.”
Gabriel didn’t even check in at Command. He came straight to me, crushing me in his arms.
“I can protect you now.”
“Even if the Vances don’t want you, I do.”
My heart slowly settled back into place.
Out of guilt, I started putting Violet first. Took her shopping. Taught her etiquette. Let her choose everything first, terrified she’d feel uncomfortable. Violet was always hanging off my arm, calling “Hazel” in that sweet voice, eyes curving like crescent moons.
I was genuinely happy back then. Thought I had the best family and the best lover in the world.
Later, Gabriel and I included Violet in our dates. At first, Gabriel protested-feeling she was intruding on our world. Violet would blush and get angry, accusing him of being a pervert with bad intentions.
I mediated. Kept the peace between them.
Slowly, somehow, Gabriel started remembering Violet’s preferences. Her cycle. Her clothing size.
And Violet always pestered me for stories about Gabriel’s childhood.
Until the New Year’s Eve crash.
When the car slammed into the guardrail, I watched Gabriel shield Violet first, his body instinctively curving
around hers.
My forehead cracked against the seatback. Blood trickled through my lashes.
At the hospital, he gripped my hand. “Hazel, I thought she was you-”
I said nothing. My heart sank into ice. Something had already spun beyond my control.
The day I got my stitches out, I checked out early.
In the gardenia bushes behind The Estate, I saw two figures tangled together.
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Lera
INSTALL
vindo a ele. Na noite passada, me entregou a um…
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Gabriel’s fingers threaded through Violet’s hair. He was kissing her with a focus and devotion that shattered
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