Lucien met his eyes calmly. “She’s not punishing anyone, Damon. She’s punishing herself.”

Damon didn’t respond. Instead, he turned away and walked toward the window, staring out at the horizon. His silence wasn’t anger anymore—it was pain.

Talia reached out and grabbed Lucien’s hand gently. “Thank you for telling us.”

He nodded and squeezed her hand before standing. “Rest well, okay? I’ll make sure she comes tomorrow.”

As he left the room, Lucien felt the weight of unspoken grief hanging over all of them like a low-hanging cloud. He didn’t know if tomorrow would fix everything—but he hoped it would at least start the healing.

***

The sun rose gently...