Kyra’s POV
The smell of roasted garlic and fresh herbs woke me before the sun was fully up. At first, I panicked, forgetting where I was. Then it came back. The fair, the reporters, the move, the estate.
I padded into the sunlit kitchen in one of the silk robes that had been left for me in the guest closet. The chef, a quiet older woman named Inez, was plating breakfast with military precision. Eggs, avocado toast, roasted potatoes, grilled veggies. I blinked, then smiled sleepily.
“Good morning,” I said, sliding into a seat at the island.
“Good morning, Miss Kyra,” Inez said with a warm smile. “Mr. Cruz will be down shortly.”
I rubbed my belly gently. I was not showing yet, but every morning the pregnancy felt more real. No more spiraling thoughts about how this happened. This was my
