Phantom’s POV
The night after Maryelle’s collapse stretched endlessly. I stayed by her side until dawn, watching the faint rise and fall of her chest, listening to the healer’s quiet reassurances that her system was “adapting.” I didn’t move, didn’t sleep. Relief should have anchored me, but the vial’s shadow lingered, and with it Lucian’s venomous words: Release her to me.
By morning, the palace stirred. Servants whispered in the corridors, guards shifted uneasily at their posts, and Bailey hovered like a shadow. I ignored them all. My world had narrowed to Maryelle’s fragile breaths, the warmth slowly returning to her skin.
Then Lola entered.
It was mid‑morning, sunlight spilling through the tall windows, gilding her hair in pale gold. She moved with languid confidence, every gest
