Ruby’s POV
The four months since the trial had passed like a fever dream, slow and surreal, finally settling into the quiet, rhythmic beat of a life I wasn't sure I deserved.
We were gathered in the Ray estate, the dining room bathed in the warm, golden glow of a dozen crystal chandeliers. It was a picture of domestic perfection that would have made the old me—the me who grew up in the shadow of the Bell mansion—wince with disbelief. Alexander sat at the head of the table, his presence as steady and grounding as it had ever been. Beside him, James was laughing at something Eleanor Ray, Alexander’s mother, had said. Eleanor, the woman who once treated me like an interloper, now poured my wine with a tentative, almost apologetic grace. She had apologized for the slap months ago, a momen
