The morning sun spilled weakly through the heavy curtains of her room, painting pale stripes across the floor. Elara sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped tightly in her lap. The events of the past week churned through her mind like a storm she could not escape.
The confrontation with Dante in the study replayed endlessly. Every word, every look, every subtle pause lingered. She could not shake the feeling that nothing he said was just words. Everything had layers. And she had only just begun to understand that.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from Vivienne.
"Good morning, Elara. I trust you slept… well? I heard last night was… illuminating."
Elara stared at the text, jaw tightening. Vivienne’s tone was innocent, but she could feel the edge beneath it. Every word was
