Ava’s POV:
Morning arrives without ceremony.
No sunlight spilling dramatically across the floor. No sense of renewal. Just a gradual awareness that time has moved forward without waiting for me to catch up.
I wake before anyone comes to get me. My body feels heavy, like it spent the night bracing for impact instead of resting. For a few seconds, I forget where I am. Then memory snaps back into place with brutal clarity. Margaret’s house. The gates. Julian’s hand. Sirens in the distance.
I sit up slowly and swing my legs over the side of the bed.
There is a garment bag hanging near the door.
I already know what that means.
When I open it, I find a tailored dress in a muted shade of ivory. Structured. Conservative. Expensive without being loud. The kind of dress that signals control a
