The late afternoon sun bathed the Ashford Estate in hues of orange and gold, but inside the mansion, tension simmered like an untamed flame. Grace’s fingers trembled as she re-read Nathaniel’s reply on her phone.
Come to the greenhouse. It’s safe. And Grace… thank you for trusting me again.
She didn't know what she expected: anger, indifference, maybe even silence. But Nathaniel responded with warmth and urgency. And somehow, it steadied her.
The greenhouse sat at the far end of the estate, a sanctuary hidden behind hedges of lavender and thorny roses. She remembered going there as a child, watching her mother clip herbs while her father hummed old jazz tunes. She hadn’t stepped foot there in years.
But as she approached, a soft glow from within pulsed like a beacon.
Inside, the scent
