The house did not sleep that night.
It didn’t stir. It didn’t echo. It simply remained awake, alert in the way places became when decisions were no longer theoretical.
Elara felt it the moment she stepped out of her room.
The air was different. Not tense—prepared.
She moved through the hallway without hesitation now, bare feet silent against polished floors. The walls no longer felt like boundaries. They felt like witnesses.
Elliot was in the study.
The door was open.
Lights illuminated the space in clean lines, casting sharp reflections across the glass walls. Files were spread across the table, layered in a way that suggested priority rather than disorder. Screens glowed with information she couldn’t fully see from the doorway.
He didn’t look up when she entered.
“They confirmed
