Leah barely recognized the girl staring back at her in the mirror. Hollow eyes, lips pressed into a trembling line, hair falling in uneven strands around her face.
She had not slept since Mira’s death. Sleep meant silence, and silence brought the memory back: Mira’s laughter cut short, her body broken, and Nathan’s shadow looming like an executioner.
Leah should have hated him without question. But the guard’s hushed words still burned in her mind like fire written on her skin.
“It wasn’t the young master… orders came from higher up.”
The phrase clung to her like a curse, who was higher up? Nathan’s father? Someone else in the family?
She wanted to dismiss it, wanted to keep her anger sharp and simple. But doubt crept in like poison. If Nathan wasn’t Mira’s killer, then she had condem
