Part 4

She knew how to drive. She had learned years ago — but in her previous life, driving had felt like a waste. Why sit behind her own wheel when she could sit next to Bastian?

She had faked helplessness, performing incompetence whenever a car key appeared, just to engineer another minute in his company.

Thinking about it now, her stomach turned. She really had been hopeless.

That version of herself was finished. From now on, she would do the things she had avoided simply because she was too busy orbiting someone else's life.

She stopped in front of the gleaming red convertible sitting in the garage — the car Bastian had bought for her two months ago. His solution to her constant presence. His way of saying: here, take this, go somewhere else.

She remembered what he'd actually said when he handed over the keys. Something about her being spoiled, exhausting, too clingy to be endured.

The memory didn't sting the way it used to. Now it just sharpened her resolve.

"Miss, do you need a driver? I happen to have some free time." One of Bastian's bodyguards appeared from the edge of the garage, maintaining a respectful distance.

Carla turned to look at him. Broad-shouldered, dressed head to toe in formal black.

He blinked when he saw her face — then blinked again, visibly startled. She looked nothing like the girl he remembered. The last time he'd seen her, she'd been dressed like a performance. Now she was... entirely different.

He dropped his gaze quickly. It felt impolite to stare at his employer's ward.

Carla considered him. She remembered this man — in her first life, he had always addressed her with quiet courtesy, offered help without expecting anything in return. And she had snapped at him every time. Bristled at the idea of any man but Bastian speaking to her, paying attention to her.

The memory left a sour taste. She had been insufferable.

The corner of her mouth curved upward. "I'm going to the mall — some shopping, maybe a film. Would you like to come along?"

He looked up reflexively, caught off guard by the warmth in her voice.

He had braced himself for a dismissal. That was always what happened.

He caught himself staring and dropped his gaze again. "I — yes, Miss. I'm happy to assist."

Carla's expression warmed further, quietly amused by his careful formality.

She genuinely regretted how she had treated him before. All that wasted courtesy, all those offers of help she had thrown back in his face.

"Then let's go," she said.

She tossed him the car keys. He caught them without thinking.

He moved toward the driver's door and reached for the handle — but Carla had already let herself in on the passenger side.

The red convertible rolled slowly out of the garage and pulled into the late morning light, tasting open road for the first time since the day it was delivered.

"Open the roof," Carla said from the passenger seat. "I want the wind."

"Yes, Miss."

The roof retracted. Sunlight fell across her face.

"What's your name? I've never asked."

"Davin, Miss."

"Hi, Davin." She tilted her head back slightly against the headrest. "Starting today, you might find me keeping you pretty busy. I plan to go out a lot — until the day comes when I'm no longer living at the estate."

"I — what? You're leaving, Miss? Where are you going?"

"Nowhere dramatic. I just want a change. More independence. I don't want to be a burden to my uncle." She said it easily, her voice unhurried.

She spread both arms wide, feeling the air rush past her palms, and closed her eyes.

The expression on her face was something Davin had never seen there before — pure, uncomplicated happiness.

Back at the estate, Bastian stepped outside just in time to see the red car sliding away from the gate. He stood there watching, something tightening in his chest without a name.

He'd seen Carla's face through the open roof. He'd seen the way she held her arms out, head lifted, grinning at nothing in particular.

Not once, in all the years she had lived under his care, had she looked like that. She had always been too focused on him — too busy waiting for him to come home, to acknowledge her, to stay.