Lyra POV
The sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the mansion’s windows with streaks of orange and violet as I waited in our bedroom, the soft glow of a lantern casting warm shadows across the walls. The day had been a tangle of emotions—Fiona’s vicious words at breakfast, her attempt to undermine my place with Jaxon, had left a bitter taste, but I’d pushed it aside, focusing on the promise of his return.
The room was ready for him: the copper tub filled with steaming water, scented with lavender oil I’d found in the pantry, a towel folded neatly on a stool, and a tray of bread and cheese on the bedside table for when he was hungry. I wanted to be his sanctuary, to ease the weight of his day, just as he was mine.
The creak of the front door echoed through the mansion, followed by
