Maria stood in the doorway of the study, her heart already racing.
The desk was untouched, Allison's books still stacked in neat, lonely piles. Maria searched everywhere—the library, the gardens, the terrace—but the girl was gone. The clock was ticking. The Ainsleys would be home any minute.
"Where could she have gone?" Maria whispered to the silence. Then, a memory surfaced. The beach. It had to be the beach.
Maria turned to run, but the front door swung open before she could reach it. Lauren stepped inside, Alex right behind her. Rain dripped from their shoulders, pooling on the expensive floor.
"Such a downpour," Lauren said, shaking out her hair. "And so sudden." She paused, glancing around the quiet foyer. "Where's Allison?"
Maria's breath caught in her throat. Allison always greeted them at the door. Always.
Alex's eyes narrowed. "Is she asleep?"
Maria couldn't speak. Her hands began to shake, and a cold sweat broke out across her forehead. The words felt too heavy to form. She swallowed hard, her voice barely a ghost of itself.
"She's—missing."
The fort was nothing more than driftwood and a stitched camping tent, but to Devin and Allison, it was a fortress.
Rain hammered against the makeshift roof. Outside, the ocean had turned a violent, angry grey.
"It's summer," Allison said, her voice small against the thunder. "Why is it raining?"
Devin pulled the kite inside—or what was left of it. The tail was shredded, the strings snapped. "I don't know. But it's getting worse."
Lightning split the sky. Allison flinched, then tried to hide it. She was eleven—too old to be scared of storms, or so her father told her. But Devin saw. He sat beside her, their shoulders touching.
"Hey. I won't leave you, okay?"
She nodded. For a while, they just listened to the rhythmic drumming of the rain. As the storm began to soften, Devin's chest tightened. He had been rehearsing this moment for weeks.
"Allison."
She turned to him, eyes curious. "Yes?"
His mouth went dry. "If I... if I built you something real. A glass house. Would you—"
"Look!" she interrupted, pointing outside. "It stopped."
The rain had faded to a drizzle. The moment shattered like glass. Devin watched her crawl toward the small wooden door, the confession dying in his throat.
She pushed the door open—and froze.
Two men stood before them, backlit by the clearing sky. One wore an expensive suit, soaked through; the other—Devin's uncle, Ben—stood with his arms crossed, looking weary.
Alex Ainsley stared down at his daughter, then at the boy beside her. His expression hardened into a mask of cold disdain. Without a word, he turned and walked away.
"Dad—"
Lauren appeared behind him, breathless, her heels sinking into the wet sand. She pulled Allison into a desperate embrace. "You scared us half to death, my baby!"
"No!" Allison twisted around, her fingers catching Devin's. "Devin!"
He held on tight, his heart hammering. "Allison—"
But Ben stepped forward, gently but firmly pulling Devin back. Their hands slipped apart.
In the chaos, Lauren's eyes lifted from her daughter and locked onto Ben's. It wasn't the look of a stranger. It was a heavy, stolen stare—one that flickered with a shared secret before she paled and looked away.
Devin began to cry, watching them disappear up the beach. Then, a spark of defiance lit up inside him.
"Uncle, can we buy this place? I want to build a real fort here. A glass house."
Ben stayed silent at first, his thoughts lost in the past. Finally, he nodded slowly. "I see. You are finally embracing the fortune your parents left you."
The next day, Devin stood outside the Ainsley gates for twenty minutes before Maria finally emerged. She slipped a folded note into his hand, her eyes full of pity.
"I'm sorry, Devin. You won't be able to see her again."
His chest tightened. "Why? What did I do?"
"It's not about what you did. Maybe it's just because you're both so young."
"That's ridiculous! We were just playing."
"I know." She pressed the paper into his palm. "We're leaving for Spain. But this is the address. Send your letters to me, and I'll make sure she gets them."
Inside the mansion, Lauren sat on the edge of her daughter's bed.
"Allison, sweetheart—"
"Go away."
"Your father is just trying to protect you."
"From what? Devin is my best friend. Mom! My only friend."
"I know," Lauren admitted quietly. "But things are complicated."
Downstairs, Alex poured a drink, the amber liquid sloshing against the glass. When Lauren appeared in the doorway, he didn't look up.
"They're just children, Alex," she said softly, her voice barely carrying across the room.
"Children don't stay children forever," Alex replied, his voice like a sheet of ice. He set the glass down with a heavy, deliberate thud that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards.
"We both know how fast that changes."
He finally looked at her, his eyes narrowed and searching.
The air in the study felt thin, charged with a resentment that had been simmering for years.
"I saw the way you looked at him today, Lauren," he said, his words dropping like stones. "Ben."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she whispered.
She didn't wait for a response. She simply turned and fled the room, leaving the air heavy with the scent of old secrets and expensive gin.
But the silence didn't last. The front door opened again, admitting a new kind of coldness.
"I heard you're leaving the States for Spain," Olivia Hollingsworth said. "What becomes of the business here?"
Alex adjusted his glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light. His professional mask slid firmly back into place. "I'll be back in six months. Alone."
His gaze drifted to the boy standing at Olivia's side—a shadow with icy, charcoal eyes and a face already hardening into a mask of stoicism. "Is this Daniel? He's grown into a fine young man."
"Daniel," Olivia commanded, her hand resting on her son's shoulder like a lead weight. "Pay your respects to your future father-in-law."
Daniel didn't flinch. He stepped forward and bowed—a mechanical, practiced movement.
A boy who'd learned to perform obedience before he learned to speak.
Then came a sound from the stairs—a soft gasp.
Allison stood on the landing. Her eyes were red-rimmed, swollen from crying. Her curls were a tangled mess. She looked like someone whose world was collapsing.
Because it was.
"I see," Olivia said, her eyes lighting up with satisfaction. "This must be Allison."
The two children locked eyes across the grand foyer.
To Daniel, she was a complication. A threat. Someone to avoid.
To Allison, he was just another spoiled brat—someone to ignore. Her mind was anchored to only one person: the boy on the beach. Devin.
Neither of them understood what was happening.
Neither of them knew they'd just been promised to each other.
Downstairs, in Alex's study, her father was signing away her life. A contract.
A month later, Devin wrote his first letter.
Dear Allison,
Haha! I'm inserting my laugh here—missing teeth.
I'm sorry if I don't know what to say, but I hope you are smiling now. Don't be sad anymore. We'll see each other in the future; I promise.
This letter is as short as the time we were friends—one fine but short summer.
Bye,
Devin
When Allison read it in Spain, she wept. "Thank you, Maria," she whispered, reaching for a pen.
Weeks later, Devin ran up his driveway so fast he nearly tripped. The envelope was there—white with blue trim and a Spanish postmark. He tore it open in his room, heart racing.
Devin,
I missed you too. You're making me laugh. That missing teeth got me for real.
I don't know what to write aside from that.
Yes, I'll come back, promise.
Allison.
Devin felt the butterflies in his stomach. He opened the drawer near his bed and pulled out a piece of paper that read:
Allison, I have been trying to tell you this since the time you were still here. But I just couldn't. I really like you, Allison.