Liana's POV
It was colder here. Not just the weather—though yeah, it definitely wasn’t Maldives heat anymore. But something else. Something heavier.
My legs ached as I stepped down the stairs, every muscle stiff from the flight. The bandages on my arms felt tighter, like the bruises underneath were curling into themselves. Reminders of how close everything had come to breaking—my body, my mind, and maybe even more.
I caught a movement from the corner of my eye. A flurry of gray hair and an apron. Mrs. Anne.
She was already halfway across the tarmac, bustling toward me like I was the prodigal daughter come home. The other maids trailed behind her, softer in their approach, their eyes wide with something between pity and relief.
“Mrs. Liana,” Mrs. Anne breathed, breathless and beaming,
