LILY
I felt her presence before I saw her.
The house had a way of changing when she was in it—like the air tightened, like even the walls leaned inward to listen. The staff moved more quietly. Conversations dropped off mid-sentence. Doors closed a little faster.
Alice clung to me that morning as though she sensed it too.
“Come on,” I murmured softly, adjusting her on my hip as I walked down the hall. “It’s just breakfast.”
Her small fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt, knuckles white. She shook her head violently, pressing her face into my neck.
I frowned. “Alice?”
Her answer was a whimper.
I stepped into the sitting room—and there she was.
Ella sat on the sofa, legs crossed, phone in hand, red curls falling perfectly over her shoulder. She looked like she belonged there. L
