Cynthia’s POV
As I step into the quiet house, the faint scent of whiskey lingers in the air, mingling with the cool stillness of the night. My heels are muffled by the polished marble tiles, and I glance at the dimly lit hallway, relieved to find it empty. Sneaking in has become second nature, a careful game of silence and shadows. I make my way toward the stairs, hoping to slip into my room unnoticed.
But just as my hand grazes the bannister, a voice cuts through the air, sharp and cold.
“Are you out again seeking a way to ruin things?”
I freeze, my breath hitching as my gaze snaps toward the living room. Alexander.
He’s sprawled on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, a tumbler of whiskey resting in his hand. The dim lighting casts shadows across his sharp jawline, but it’s hi
