The sweetness of Sunday had long since faded. The memory of Derek’s warm smile beneath the tree, the kiss that made her forget where she was—all of it had become a flicker of warmth Ryleigh clung to as the cold routine of the manor returned.
She rose before the sun each morning, slipping into her plain dress and lacing up worn shoes that pinched her toes. Breakfasts were served, tables cleaned, linens washed. The same halls she had come to resent echoed her every footstep. Monday and Tuesday bled together in a haze of dusting, folding, and scrubbing. Her arms ached and her back throbbed, but worse than the pain was the monotony. The endless repetition made the days feel hollow.
By Wednesday, her eyes burned from lack of sleep. She found herself sweeping near Alpha Damien’s office, carefu
