Nadia's POV
The study was quiet.
I was trying to lose myself in the Soul-Forge's quarterly projections, but my hand kept drifting toward my abdomen. It was a subconscious pull, a silent tether to the life growing inside me.
The door creaked open. I didn't smell Lucian's sandalwood. Instead, a cloying, lily scent drifted in.
Abbie stood there, her pale fingers gripping the doorframe. The "fragile" act was in full swing, but her eyes, sharp and calculating, told a different story.
"Nadia? Are you still working?" she asked, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "Lucian said you should rest, but I guess you're just... driven."
"I'm busy, Abbie," I said without looking up. "If you need water or a blanket, Hugh is in the kitchen."
She stepped further into the room, her footsteps silent
