Autumn's warm breath lingered in the air as she let out a slow, languid yawn, her lips parting softly. Her eyes, heavy with the weight of fatigue, shimmered with unshed tears. She quickly wiped them with the back of her hand, smudging her vision momentarily. As her gaze cleared, it settled on the butler who had silently guided her through the labyrinth of Derek's mansion. He approached her now, carrying a silver tray adorned with a bottle of Grand Marnier and a single glass. A smile touched her lips—small but genuine. After what felt like an eternity confined within Ivan's bedroom, she was desperate for a drink.

The butler set...