The grand doors of the Ortiz mansion swung open with their familiar, resonant creak, and I stepped inside alongside Rafayel, followed by my grandparents.

The opulent foyer, with its gleaming marble floors and crystal chandelier, felt almost surreal as a backdrop for this tentative reconciliation.

“Leslie, darling, you’re back early—”

Mother’s voice carried from the drawing room before she appeared in the doorway, her elegant afternoon dress impeccable as always.

The words died on her lips the moment her gaze fell upon the elderly couple behind us.

Her face went ashen, as though she’d witnessed a ghost materialising in her very own home.

“Mother? Father?” The teacup in her hand...