The house had grown quieter.
Not peaceful—never peaceful—but quieter in the way a storm holds its breath before breaking. Even the servants moved more carefully now, their footsteps softer, their voices lowered, as if they sensed something approaching but dared not name it.
Zara felt it too.
Only she wasn’t waiting for it.
She was walking straight toward it.
By late afternoon, the sun had softened into a dull glow, casting long shadows across the garden. Zara stood near the far end of the veranda, her fingers resting lightly on the railing, her thoughts sharper than they had ever been.
The truth was no longer hidden.
Ethan knew.
She knew.
And somewhere within the walls of this house, two men were still pretending control.
A faint sound behind her broke the stillness.
She didn’t turn immediately.
She already knew.
“You’ve been difficult to find.”
Liam.
Zara exhaled slowly, then turned.
He stood a few steps away, his presence as effortless as ever, though there was something different in his expression now—less playful, more focused.
More… intentional.
“I wasn’t aware you were looking,” she replied.
“I always am,” he said simply.
There was no teasing in his voice this time.
No humor.
Zara tilted her head slightly, studying him.
“And what exactly are you hoping to find?”
Liam stepped closer.
Not abruptly.
Not aggressively.
But with purpose.
“The truth,” he said.
Zara’s lips curved faintly.
“That’s a dangerous thing to look for in this house.”
Liam stopped just in front of her.
Close enough that she could feel the warmth of him,...