Celeste didn’t show up with a screaming match or some dramatic entrance. She didn’t demand attention, didn’t crash through like some force of nature. No, she came in quietly, wrapped in elegance and warmth that seemed practiced—a sort of polished confidence that didn’t ask permission, just assumed it belonged. By the time Nyra realized the air around her felt different, it was already too late to pretend nothing had changed.
—
The morning sunlight slipped through the estate, making everything softer and even more beautiful—but Nyra felt none of it. Every step down the main staircase landed quietly, but under that calm, she knew something in the house had shifted. She sensed the difference in the tiniest things: servants dropped their eyes a little faster, conversations ended too soon whe
