The bathroom was filled with a soft haze of steam as Aria stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the silk strap of her dress. The evening had drained her, and even the warm shower hadn’t washed away the tension clinging to her like a second skin. Her thoughts swirled with confusion, about Damian, about Lyla, and about the strange feelings she couldn’t quite put into words.
She reached for the towel to dry her hands when she heard a faint creak.
Her brows furrowed.
Another sound followed, a soft rustle, like fabric being moved. She paused, holding her breath. Slowly, carefully, she moved toward the door and opened it just an inch.
The bedroom was dim, lit only by the low glow of the bedside lamp. But what she saw made her blood run cold.
Lyla stood with her back to the bathroom, compl
