The morning at the Lucian-Fidel residence was a sharp contrast to the frantic, disoriented energy vibrating through the halls of Blackwood Manor. In the sun-drenched breakfast nook of Loretta’s home, the air smelled of calming chamomile and cedar. Loretta sat across from Hazel, her eyes narrow with a protective, burning fury as she watched her younger sister stare into a cup of tea she hadn't touched.
Hazel looked exhausted; the faint shadows under her eyes told the story of a night spent staring at the ceiling of Loretta’s guest room. Yet, even in her weariness, there was a new kind of stillness about her,a quiet, resolute calm that replaced the desperate yearning of the previous weeks.
"You are not going back there today," Loretta said, her voice firm, leaving no room for argument. "Le
