Sunlight spilled through the sheer curtains, painting soft patterns across Kya’s room. She stirred awake, the weight of last night’s conversation with her father still pressing faintly against her chest. For a moment, she thought she had dreamt it all—the decree, the dinner, Julian’s warning. But the quiet hum of voices downstairs told her otherwise.
Pulling on a robe, she padded down the hallway, her bare feet silent against the polished wood. As she reached the landing, she froze.
Julian Gray was sitting in her parents’ living room.
Not in his usual tailored suit, not with the cold, commanding presence she had grown accustomed to. Instead, he wore a simple gray sweater and dark jeans, his hair still damp from a morning shower, his posture relaxed against the sofa. He looked… casual.
