It was supposed to be a quiet morning.
Elira had just set Amira down for her nap, the lull of cartoons humming in the background, when the knock came.
A knock that didn’t sound polite. It sounded deliberate.
Damien was upstairs, shaving. She didn’t wait for him.
She opened the door.
And froze.
Standing there wasn’t Valencia.
Wasn’t Livia.
It was a woman with the same eyes as Damien.
Tall. Striking. Cold. Her black curls were tucked into a bun, her gold earrings shimmering like small knives.
“Hello,” the woman said.
Elira narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?”
The woman smiled faintly. “I’m Damien’s wife.”
The world tilted.
“You’re lying,” Elira said softly.
“I’m not.”
Damien’s voice bellowed from behind. “Elira—don’t believe a word she says!”
The woman turned as Damien rushed d
