_Nathan’s POV_
The Ashwood residence always felt colder than it looked.
I parked in the side driveway and sat in the car for a moment longer than necessary, hands resting on the steering wheel. The house stood the same as it always had — dark stone, tall windows, perfectly kept grounds. Nothing about it had changed. I had. The mark under my shirt still ached faintly when I moved, a reminder I could not bring into this place without consequence.
By the time I reached the front doors, one of the staff had already opened them. I barely had time to step into the entryway before my mother’s voice came from the hallway.
“Nathan.”
Vivienne Ashwood walked toward me with the same measured grace she always carried. She looked composed, but there was a tiredness around her eyes that she usually
