Hailey's POV
The Norway Mansion had always felt very safe to me.
Polished wood, old money, jasmine drifting in through open windows—comfort layered so deeply into the walls that I had once believed nothing bad could ever truly happen here.
As a child, this house had been my fortress. As a teenager, my escape and as a woman, my inheritance.
Now it felt like a mausoleum.
Kingsley and I walked through the front doors together, our hands joined together—not tightly, not desperately, but deliberately.
We wanted to make a statement. And we really made the statement.
The staff froze the moment they saw us, the tension snapping through the foyer like a live wire. No one spoke, no one moved. They knew something had shifted, even if they didn't yet understand what it was.
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