Arielle’s nerves had sharpened over the past few days. Each step she took in the mansion felt measured, every glance weighed. She had learned to breathe evenly when Kairo was near, to meet his eyes just long enough to look convincing but not so long as to invite further scrutiny.
It was exhausting.
Her “small mistake” a few days earlier had left her shaken. She didn’t know what Kairo had seen, or how much he knew, but she sensed something had shifted. He didn’t call her out, didn’t confront her directly, but his silence was heavier than words. He was watching, measuring, studying her every movement.
The danger wasn’t in what he said but in what he didn’t.
That evening, she walked through the library, her hand grazing the spines of books as though searching for something casual to read.
