The mansion was quieter than it had ever been. The sound of footsteps echoed faintly through the marble halls, carried by the soft hum of the air conditioning. Skylar sat by the edge of her bed, her fingers fiddling nervously with the hem of her dress as she listened to the distant rhythm of movement downstairs. Logan was home.
Her heartbeat fluttered when she heard the door of the master bedroom open next to hers—then close again. The muffled clink of his wristwatch landing on a table, the faint rustle of fabric—he was changing. She could almost imagine him there, tall and composed, removing his black suit and loosening his tie with that cold precision he wore so easily.
A few minutes later, she heard footsteps again. The sound grew fainter as he walked down the hallway and descended th
