The night was deep, silent except for the faint hiss of waves striking against the cliffside. In the heart of the manor, dim candlelight flickered across velvet curtains and marble floors. Aria sat before the wide window of her private quarters, the flame's reflection dancing in her dark eyes. Her expression was unreadable, neither victory nor peace, only the quiet storm of a woman who had waited too long to claim what she believed was hers.
Behind her, Lea stood, her hands clasped tightly together. The silence stretched before she spoke, her voice steady but low. “Madam… what will happen to Amara now?"
Aria did not immediately respond.
She remained still, watching the horizon where the waves met the black sky. “Don’t worry, Lea,” she said finally, her tone cold but deliberate.
“She is
