The room felt too bright.

As the golden light faded from the solarium, a subtle tension tightened the air, threading through the room like the silk of Isabella’s robe—smooth to the eye, but strangling at its core.

Cynthia took one hesitant step forward, her fingers clutched tighter around the spine of the book she’d brought with her—nothing more than a prop now, something to keep her hands from trembling. Her heart thundered in her chest, but she swallowed the fear like she had all her life—quietly, without question.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you both,” she began, her tone gentle, careful, almost reverent. “I just… I wanted to say I’m...