Damien locked the nursery door behind him. Not because he didn’t trust Elira—he trusted her with his soul—but because he didn’t trust the walls.
The house was no longer safe.
Not with Delilah inside it.
She was too quiet. Too sweet. Too willing to “help” with the baby. And every time she looked at Elira, it was the same venom in her eyes she’d worn the night she destroyed his last engagement.
Elira sat curled up on the sofa in the master bedroom now, cradling Amelia in her arms, whispering lullabies Damien knew she’d never sung to anyone before.
Not even Amira.
Because Amira had never been truly hers.
Amira was outside with the nanny, Damien had made sure of that. He couldn’t let her hear what was coming.
He watched Elira from the doorway. Her skin was flushed, hair damp from stres
