[8:17 a.m. – Lancaster Estate, Master Bedroom]
The morning was heavy with silence.
Amara stirred beneath the silk sheets, her body aching from a restless night. Damon had left before dawn, the warmth of his absence clinging to the bedsheets like a phantom. She didn’t know what disturbed her more — that he hadn’t said goodbye… or that she had expected him to.
She sat up, brushing strands of hair from her face. Her fingers instinctively reached for the necklace she no longer wore — the one Damon had given her. It had been tucked away weeks ago, yet her hand still searched for its familiar weight like a ghost of memory.
A soft knock echoed on the bedroom door.
“Come in,” her voice croaked.
Greta entered, holding a breakfast tray and a cautious smile. “Good morning, ma’am. Mr. Lancaster
