Andrew Best had barely touched his breakfast when the sound of a car pulling into the driveway made him glance up. He wasn’t expecting any visitors—at least none that he wanted to see. He sighed, rubbing his temple before pushing his plate away.
Moments later, Margaret entered the dining room, her usually calm face laced with something close to irritation.
“Sir,” she said hesitantly, “Miss Sophia is here.”
Andrew exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the table. “Of course, she is.”
He had barely returned home the night before, still grappling with the weight of Amelia’s departure, and now Sophia was already here, as if she had been waiting for the perfect moment to make her next move.
“Let her in,” he said flatly, already dreading whatever game she was about to play.
Marga
