The morning sun hit the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, but for the first time in months, it didn't feel like a spotlight on a battlefield. It just felt like... Tuesday.
Emily sat at the kitchen island, nursing a mug of coffee. Real coffee. Not herbal tea, not nutrient-dense sludge to keep a Hybrid alive. Just caffeine and hazelnut creamer.
She took a sip and sighed, kicking her bare feet against the stool. She was wearing one of Ethan’s shirts, her hair in a messy bun, and her skin—once grey and translucent—was glowing with the flush of health.
"Your toast, Madam."
A plate drifted through the air, carried by invisible fingers, and landed gently in front of her.
Emily looked up. Kael stood by the stove, wearing a stiff black butler’s uniform that was two sizes too small for
