The clock struck midnight, and the silence in the Vale mansion was suffocating.
Calla stood by the open balcony, her hands gripping the wrought-iron rail like it was the only thing anchoring her to the moment. The city lights blurred behind a veil of tears she refused to let fall. Her white silk robe clung to her like second skin, and the night wind kissed her bare legs, reminding her she was still here—still alive—even if everything inside her was unraveling.
Behind her, she heard his footsteps. Damian.
“You’re still awake,” he said quietly, voice cautious, like she might shatter at the sound of it.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered, not turning around. “Too many… lies in the air.”
Damian exhaled, his footsteps stopping halfway across the room. “Calla, what happened tonight—”
“Don’t
