The Wrong Knock
The house was unusually quiet that evening, the air thick with a kind of nervous anticipation. Tessa had spent the entire afternoon pacing the polished tiles of the grand sitting room, every sound magnified. The tick of the antique clock on the wall, the distant hum of traffic from the boulevard, the occasional clatter of pots from the kitchen where Ayisha was busy.
The house itself was no small house. Its wide, glass paneled windows looked out over trimmed hedges and a stone driveway. High ceilings arched above the dining hall, chandeliers glittering like captured starlight. The home was a fortress and yet tonight, Tessa felt exposed, vulnerable. She was about to open the door to Ares himself.
When the bell finally rang, her stomach dipped. She froze in the foyer, finge
