Elora's POV

Steam still clung to the air as I stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped tightly around my damp skin.

The new scent of vanilla and citrus from the soap Rowen had picked out clung to me, soft and oddly comforting. My feet padded quietly over the tiles, heart still racing from everything that had happened that morning.

The bed was half-covered in dress boxes and tissue paper. Shoes, bags, designer perfumes, and jewelry that were all mine.

Every tag was intact, every brand name one I’d only ever whispered in envy while scrolling social media. It all felt like a dream I hadn’t earned. I dropped...