Fiore's heart pounded as she and Lance entered the drawing room. The warmth of the fire did nothing to ease the chill settling deep in her bones. There, sitting comfortably as though nothing had changed, were Reginald and Alexander, sipping their coffee as if this was a casual evening and not the moment she had been dreading. Lance's voice was steady as he greeted them, but Fiore could feel the tension radiating off him.
"Reginald, Alexander."
At the sound of Lance’s voice, Alexander’s face lit up, his features softening as if her mere presence had lifted the weight of the world off his shoulders. “Fiore!” He stood, rushing to her side, his arms wrapping around her in a rare, warm embrace.
"Father," Fiore murmured, though her heart wasn't in it. His touch was familiar, comforting even,
