(Author’s POV)
Aurora stepped out of Amelia’s room with a storm raging behind her calm face. The words Amelia had thrown at her were still echoing in her mind, those arrogant, poisonous claims of snatching Ian. She was determined not to let Amelia win, not to let her poisonous seeds grow in this house, in the hearts of the men who loved her so deeply.
But the moment Aurora reached the landing, the sight below made her heart tighten.
Amelia was walking slowly down the grand staircase. Her back was slightly bent, her hand clutching the banister, her face wearing a faintly pained expression. To anyone watching from below, she looked like a fragile, recovering patient who was pushing herself just a bit too hard.
Aurora’s sharp eyes narrowed. This was not pain, it was performance.
The Skyl
