Abigail's pov
The moment I step into the mansion, it feels like the walls are closing in on me. My emotions are a mess, swirling with anger, fear, and something I can’t quite name.
I replay the scene over and over in my mind—Nathan’s taunts, Luca’s fury, and my helplessness. My hands still tremble as I grip the strap of my bag, my knuckles white.
I wander through the empty halls, the soft echo of my footsteps the only sound I hear. I need air, space, something to clear my head.
Pushing through the back door, I step into the garden. The evening air greets me, cool and crisp, carrying the faint scent of jasmine.
This place is supposed to be calming, but even here, I can’t escape the turmoil in my chest. I make my way to the farthest corner of the garden, where an old iron bench sits
