The Kingston estate was quiet, settling into the heavy,silence of the late evening. While the rest of the household was occupied—Autumn likely wallowing in her room after her failed escape attempt, and Eric out conducting whatever secret business he had suddenly prioritized—Eleanor seized her opportunity.
She moved through the hallway with the practiced grace of a woman who owned every room she walked into. She had been waiting for this moment, waiting for Eric to be distracted enough to leave his fortress of a study unguarded.
She slipped inside, the heavy oak door clicking shut silently behind her.
The room smelled like him—rich mahogany, aged paper, and that crisp, cold scent of authority that she loathed. Eleanor didn't waste time admiring the decor. She moved straight to the desk,
