The east wing was colder than the rest of the house, not physically but emotionally. It was too quiet, too detached. Rashel had tried convincing herself that the isolation was good. Necessary even. But as the days passed, the silence threatened to suffocate her, as if the walls themselves were aware of the war raging inside her. She was now desperate to escape her own thoughts, even if it meant returning to the main house.
She sat cross-legged on the bed, her laptop resting against her thighs. The screen glowed with lines of code and security encryption layers she had once built with pride. Fortis. Her pride and pain in one package. The project Seth had entrusted to her before everything fell apart—before he’d thrown her out like a broken piece of glass he no longer needed. Now, it belong
