Ambrose's POV
Standing tall before the mirror, I couldn't tear my eyes away from my reflection, even as the servants flitted around me like shadows. Some fussed with my hair, adjusting strands that refused to cooperate, while others hovered near my wardrobe, comparing fabrics and colors, debating which suit would best reflect my stature. Yet none of it mattered. I was distracted—hopelessly so.
The distraction had begun the moment I woke up, a strange, unnerving sense of loss settling deep inside me. My hands had instinctively reached across the bed, searching for something—someone—that had been there with me during the night. But all I found was the cold, empty space beside me. Was it a dream? It felt too real to be a dream.
I remembered her—vividly. She had been there, so close to me,
