Iris Walker walked toward the parked car with barely concealed anticipation, her steps light and quick, her lips already parting as if the word husband were about to slip out on its own.
The smile on her face froze the moment she saw who emerged first.
Sophie Walker stepped out slowly, a small child cradled securely in her arms. Her posture was calm, almost restrained, yet there was a subtle stiffness in her shoulders—an instinctive readiness that only came from years of hardship and vigilance.
The other door opened as well.
A young man followed, tall and lean, his features sharp and clean-cut. His eyebrows were sword-straight, his gaze deep and steady, giving off a quiet sense of composure that didn’t clamor for attention. The only thing that seemed even remotely out of place was his
