Chapter 82 Don’t change anything.

"I'll leave you two to talk," Gregory said, rising from his chair with unexpected nimble for a man his age. "Diana, Howard will show you to your room when you're ready. You'll be staying in the east wing." He paused at the door. "I'm glad you're here. Whatever the circumstances."

After Gregory left, Bernard and I stared at each other for a long moment. He looked tired, I realized—genuinely exhausted in a way I'd never seen before.

"You've had a difficult day," he said finally.

I laughed, the sound hollow even to my own ears. "You could say that."

Bernard moved to the chair Gregory had vacated, though he perched on its edge rather than relaxing into it. "The security team believes Johnson's people attempted to access your apartment today. The surveillance pattern changed from observation to active interest."

"What does that mean exactly?"

"It means they're no longer just watching," Bernard explained, his voice tense. "They're seeking information."

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly chilled despite the fire. "Do they know who I am?"

"We're not certain," Bernard admitted. "But the timing suggests their interest has evolved beyond your connection to the project."

I looked around the opulent library, at the wealth and history surrounding me. "So I'm trapped here now? In this gilded manor instead of your guest suite?"

"You're not trapped, Diana," Bernard said, a hint of frustration breaking through his usually controlled tone. "You're protected. There's a difference."

"Doesn't feel like much of one from my view," I muttered.

Bernard sighed, running a hand through his usually perfect hair. "I understand this is overwhelming. All of it. Your identity, Johnson's potential threat, this house—"

"The house where I was kidnapped from as a baby," I interrupted. "Yeah, that's a bit overwhelming."

"Would you prefer another location?" Bernard asked immediately. "I can arrange—"

"No," I cut him off again. "No more arrangements, Bernard. I need to process all this in my own way."

Bernard fell silent, his gray eyes studying me with that familiar intensity. But beneath the analysis, I could see genuine concern.

"I believe you," I said after a moment. "About Johnson being a threat. About needing protection right now. But I need some things from you in return."

"Name them," Bernard replied without hesitation.

“For now ,don’t lie," I began, counting on my fingers. "No more excuse.' Second, I need space to process everything. No hovering, no guessing my every reaction. And third..." I paused.

"Yes?" Bernard prompted.

"Third, we need to address the elephant in the room," I said, meeting his gaze directly. "Our relationship. What happened in Tokyo. The fact that you're technically my uncle."

Bernard's expression tightened. "Adoptive uncle," he corrected automatically.

"See, that right there," I gestured toward him. "You keep emphasizing that point, like it makes everything okay. But it doesn't change the fact that you knew who I was to you when you kissed me."

Bernard stood abruptly, moving to the fireplace. With his back to me, shoulders tense, he said, "You're right. I've been... rationalizing. It was inappropriate, regardless of the lack of blood relation."

His admission surprised me. I'd expected more justification come and prevaricate me.

"So where does that leave us?" I asked, my voice softer than I intended.

Bernard turned back to face me, his expression more vulnerable than I'd ever seen it. "That depends entirely on what you want, Diana. I won't pressure you in any direction."

"I don't know what I want," I admitted. "I just know, I still love you, even though I don’t want to admit it."

Bernard's eyes widened slightly—the closest to shocked I'd ever seen him. "Diana—“I am grateful that you have been honest to me in this moment.”

My heart pounded as he took another step closer.

"I crossed lines I never thought I would cross," Bernard continued. "Made exceptions I never thought I would make. Because of you, Diana."

"That's not necessarily a good thing," I pointed out, even though I was very nervous.

"Perhaps not," he acknowledged. "But it is the truth. And you asked for complete honesty."

I stood up, needing to move, to think. "This is insane, Bernard. You're saying we should just ignore the fact that you're my uncle? That to the outside world, this would look..."

"Inappropriate," he finished for me. "Yes. I'm not suggesting we ignore it. I'm simply stating that my feelings for you remain unchanged despite that fact."

"Even though you've known all along?" I challenged.

Bernard's expression turned pained. "I tried to maintain distance precisely because I knew. I failed."

A knock at the library door interrupted us. Howard appeared, his expression professionally neutral.

"Excuse me, Mr. Jones, Ms. Peters. Dinner will be served in thirty minutes. Perhaps Ms. Peters would like to freshen up before then?"

The normal routine of dinner and housekeeping felt surreal after our intense conversation.

"Yes, thank you, Howard," I said, grateful for the excuse to escape. "I'd like to see my room."

"I will prepare books which you like after dinner. You can read them when you’re bored.” Bernard call me up before I stepped out of the library.

"Right," I nodded, moving toward the door. "See you at dinner, then."

As I followed Howard through the grand hallways of the Morris estate, I couldn't help but wonder: was I finally home?

“Don’t change anything please.”