CHAPTER THIRTY
Anna woke slowly, as if her consciousness had to swim through thick water before reaching the surface.
At first, there was only warmth.
Soft. Heavy. Comforting.
Too comforting.
A faint ache pulsed behind her eyes, like her head had been struck by something dull and stubborn. She frowned even before she opened her eyes fully, her brows knitting together in confusion.
Where am I…?
The bed beneath her felt wrong. Not wrong in a painful way—but wrong in a way her body immediately noticed. Too soft. Too large. Too expensive.
Even the air felt different.
It didn’t carry the familiar scent of home—the faint lavender her mother insisted on, mixed with the smell of morning porridge and wooden furniture.
Instead, this place smelled like cedarwood, clean linen… and something
