The conservatory had always been Vanessa’s domain, a glittering jewel of glass and greenery at the edge of the estate. Its walls curved upward into a domed ceiling, panes of glass reflecting the noon sun, so bright that it seemed the room itself had swallowed the sky. Vines trailed from hanging baskets, orchids bloomed in fragile clusters, and roses curled along the trellis with their thorns hidden beneath lush petals.
It smelled of damp earth, citrus blossoms, and sharp fertilizer a garden caught between beauty and decay.
Sierra had always loved this space as a child. It was where her mother taught her the names of flowers, where she had once hidden from storms. But now, stepping into the conservatory felt like stepping into a cage.
The door clicked shut behind her, the sound final.
A
