(LANCE )
The first official day under house arrest began with a soft chime from the ankle monitor at exactly 6:00 a.m. The sound was polite, almost friendly — a gentle electronic reminder that my world now had measured boundaries. I stood on the penthouse balcony overlooking the waking city, the morning air cool against my skin, carrying the faint scents of distant rain and fresh coffee brewing inside. The monitor felt heavier than its sleek design suggested, a constant, quiet weight around my ankle that marked every step.
Eliona joined me moments later, wrapping her arms around my waist from behind. She rested her cheek against my back, her warmth cutting through the morning chill. The faint floral scent of her shampoo mixed with the crisp linen of her robe, grounding me more effectivel
