The rain had finally stopped.
Morning light crept slowly through the massive glass windows of Sterling Tower, casting soft golden streaks across the polished floor.
But the calm sunrise did nothing to quiet the storm raging inside Ametrine’s mind.
She stood silently near the window in Zyair’s private office, arms folded tightly against her chest.
Marco Orsini’s voice echoed in her memory.
“You’re the last surviving heir.”
The words refused to fade.
Behind her, the door opened quietly.
Zyair stepped inside.
His movements were slower than usual. The recent surgery still demanded caution, though he refused to show weakness in front of anyone.
Anyone except her.
He stopped a few steps behind her.
“You didn’t sleep.”
It wasn’t a question.
Ametrine didn’t turn around.
“How could I
