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The heavy tick of the grandfather clock punctuated the silence as Kyls hovered in the doorway of her father’s study. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a desk lamp casting shadows over shelves filled with leather-bound books and portraits of ancestors. Kyls felt those long-departed eyes on her, their gazes following her every move, as if they knew the secrets she kept and judged her for them.
“Come in, Kyls,” her father’s voice broke the quiet, calm and steady. But Kyls heard something beneath it—something unspoken yet profound. It was a tone that brought her back to childhood when every word he spoke held gravity, and every silence felt loaded with implications.
She stepped forward, forcing herself to meet his gaze. Papa was standing by his desk, tall and unyielding as
