Roseline’s POV
The table was too quiet for a house with this much wrong in it.
I sat across from Victor with a plate of eggs going cold in front of me. I waited for him to ask the question I had been bracing for since I sat down. Some word, any word, about Lila.
Victor buttered his toast with the same unhurried precision he brought to everything. He looked entirely at ease, as though the morning held nothing more pressing than breakfast itself.
“The Whitlocks called yesterday,” he said, not looking up. “Sent their well wishes for Ryker. Whitlock himself, actually, not an assistant. Very concerned when he heard about the fever.”
“That was kind of them,” I said carefully. I watched him for any sign he intended to follow that sentence with something about my daughter. He didn’t.
“Good p
