“Pick whichever one you like,” he had whispered into her ear from behind her. “Sorin, I couldn’t possibly,” she had breathed, bringing a hand to her throat as she took in the rows and rows of gleaming rings. “Of course you can. They are as much yours as they are mine,” he’d answered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “They are your family riches,” she’d argued. He had turned her gently then, bringing his brow to hers, and whispered, “You are my family, Scarlett. You are my wife. You are my twin flame. What is mine is yours, as if it has always been yours.”
