The knock on the door came just as the sun began to bleed into twilight. Elena, still curled on the window seat of her room, barely flinched. She’d been staring outside for hours—watching the world go on, while her thoughts spiraled through everything that had happened. Damian’s recovery, the trial, the conviction. Rico behind bars forever. Merrissa finally at peace.
But something in her refused to settle.
A quiet click followed, and the door creaked open.
“Miss Elena,” came a respectful voice. It was Mark—one of Damian’s newer guards. Young, sharp-eyed, with a loyalty she could see in the way he stood. He stepped in slowly, holding a long black garment bag and a smaller box in his hands.
He offered a slight bow. “Sir asked that you wear this. He said to be downstairs in fifteen minute
