The screen glowed softly, casting pale light across Luna's face. Edward's gaze through the camera was steady, but his voice trembled ever so slightly when he spoke next.
"Luna… I'm sorry."
The way he said it made her breath catch—not out of surprise, but the quiet ache behind his words.
"I should've been there when it mattered most. You were kidnapped, hurt, terrified—and I wasn't there."
Luna blinked. She wasn't expecting that. Not from Edward, who was always so composed, so impossibly controlled.
She opened her mouth to protest, but he kept going.
"I knew something was wrong. I felt it, but I thought I was being paranoid. If I had moved faster, been more aware of the factions circling you—none of this would've happened. You were right there, and I—"
"Edward," Luna interrupted gently, her voice low and firm. "You messaged me, remember? You were far away. You were working. You couldn't have known it would happen then."
She tried to smile, though there was a softness behind her eyes. "You didn't fail me. No one expects you to be omniscient."
But Edward just shook his head with a rueful smile. "I expect me to be."
That earned a small, helpless laugh from Luna. "You sound like my dad."
Edward actually chuckled at that. "Now that's a comparison I never thought I'd hear."
"You're both overbearing and deeply worried control freaks," Luna said, teasingly squinting her eyes.
"Guilty."
"Edward, don't beat yourself up. You've got a full empire to run—maybe not as wide as my dad's—but still impressive. I'm pretty sure you've got layers of work I don't even know about."
He went quiet for a moment. Then, quieter still:
"I just wish I could hold you."
Luna blinked again. Heat rushed up her neck.
Edward's voice had gone raw, honest. "Just to reassure myself that you're really okay. That you're safe. That I didn't lose you."
Luna's teasing expression softened. "I had Kana. And my dad. I wasn't alone… even if it was hard."
A pause. Then Edward said, "I still wanted it to be me."
Luna didn't know what to say to that—not at first. But something in her chest tightened warmly.
Eventually, as the night stretched on, Edward coaxed her to talk. About her therapy. About the things she remembered, the things she was starting to face. Luna found herself telling him about the families she visited, the weight she now carried, her fears of not being enough, of failing—not just herself but those who died for her.
Edward listened without interruption, just his presence steady and warm across the miles. And in his listening, Luna found herself unfolding more than she thought she would.
The clock ticked past 2 a.m., then 3. And before they knew it, the first blush of dawn bled faintly behind her curtains.
Edward rubbed at his eyes, blinking against the growing light in his own suite. "It's morning."
"I know," Luna murmured, voice soft and a little shy. "That… went fast."
He leaned back in his chair, reluctant. "I should let you sleep."
"So should you," she said, laughing quietly. "Your CEO skin regimen might suffer."
That earned her a tired chuckle. "Don't joke. I've already got a fan account tracking my eye bags."
Luna grinned, then sobered a little. "Thanks for tonight, Edward."
His smile was gentle, eyes soft. "I'll see you soon, Luna. I promise."
"I'll hold you to that. Take care."
When the screen finally dimmed, Luna slowly lowered her phone, staring at the ceiling in stunned silence.
Then—
She buried her face in her pillow and groaned.
"Why was I blushing the whole time?" she mumbled, rolling over and over like a tangled burrito.
Milo yawned and stretched, unbothered by his human's flailing dramatics.
Luna eventually stilled, one arm flopped over her head, heart still warm.
Rolling onto her back, she groaned and hugged a pillow to her chest.
"Did I seriously spend the night talking to Edward Sola like some drama heroine?!"
Her cheeks were scarlet.
"And why did it feel so good?!"
Milo, curled at the foot of the bed, yawned, unimpressed.
Luna groaned again, covering her face. "I'm doomed."
But even as she said it, she smiled.
The morning chill bit harder than usual as Luna forced her legs forward along the gravel path that circled the estate. Her body protested with every step—her limbs heavy from lack of sleep, her lungs slow to adjust—but she didn't stop.
"Three laps. Just three."
She repeated the mantra with every breath, teeth gritted, the residual warmth of last night's conversation with Edward still simmering inside her. Despite her exhaustion, there was something electric beneath her skin—resolve, maybe, or a whisper of old pain resurfacing in the silence.
By the time she finished her third lap, sweat clung to her skin and her breathing was uneven. She bent over briefly, palms on her knees, then straightened up, stubbornly victorious.
Luna, still a bit dazed from lack of rest, sipped her coffee while half-picking at her food. Emmerich watched her silently from across the table, sipping his own black brew with a raised brow.
"Let me guess," he said dryly. "Sleepover with your thoughts again?"
Luna gave him a sheepish, guilty look. "Sleepover with my phone, actually."
Emmerich narrowed his eyes. "And I suppose this phone conversation was vitally important?"
"…More or less," Luna murmured.
He sighed and reached to gently smooth her hair—something he rarely did, but in this moment, his touch was warm and reassuring.
"After lunch, power nap. Doctor's orders."
"You're not a doctor," she mumbled.
"I fund several hospitals. That counts."
Despite her groggy state, Luna smiled.
After lunch, true to her word, Luna curled up on the cushioned window couch in her private suite. Miso hopped beside her, purring softly as Luna drifted off, lulled by the warm sunlight filtering through the tall glass.
And then the dream came…
The skies were gray.
Ash floated in the air like falling feathers. Luna's small hand was clutched tightly in her mother's as they ran through the ghost town, boots slapping against broken concrete, shadows creeping behind abandoned buildings.
"Faster, Luna!"
Lin—sharp-eyed, grease-smudged, her long coat billowing—pulled Luna into a hollowed-out house.
They stopped. Caught their breath.
That's when Luna saw him.
In the far corner of the ruined living room: a boy, her age or maybe younger, slumped against the wall. Wires and tubes protruded from his small back like broken insect limbs. Blood had soaked into the dust around him.
"Mama—he's hurt!"
Her mother's gaze was flinty, calculating. "We can't. He's a lost cause."
Luna's lip trembled. "But… he's like me."
Lin froze. Her daughter's words hit a nerve, deep and raw.
Without a word, Lin set down her satchel. Out came a tablet, tools, a glowing micro-welder. She knelt beside the boy and got to work. Sparks danced in the air as her hands moved fast—faster than Luna had ever seen.
Then, a small sound.
The boy stirred.
And opened his eyes.
Iridescent steel-blue—so familiar, so sharp.
Luna gasped.
Those were Edward's eyes…
Luna woke with a jolt.
Breathless.
She sat up slowly, heart racing, sweat at the nape of her neck despite the nap being short. Miso meowed softly, pawing her lap.
What… was that?
The memory hovered just outside her grasp now—faded, fragmented, like steam in the air—but the eyes were burned into her thoughts. That boy. That place.
And her mother… Lin Doe.
Luna shook off the last vestiges of sleep, sat up straighter, and walked straight to her desk.
This time, she didn't open files about Arclight Renewables.
She typed a different name: Lin Doe.
If her dreams were memories, then perhaps the truth was waiting to be unearthed—not in her father's empire, but in the fragments left behind by her mother.