The mansion woke to tension.
It moved through the halls like a quiet infection—unseen, unspoken, but undeniable. Even the light felt different that morning, sharper against the marble, colder against the glass.
Zara felt it the moment she opened her eyes.
Or perhaps…
It had never left.
She hadn’t slept.
Not truly.
Her thoughts had circled the same question over and over again until it lost meaning and became something heavier—something she could not name, but could not escape.
The test still lay where she had left it.
Two lines.
Unforgiving.
Zara sat at the edge of the bed, her fingers resting loosely in her lap, her gaze unfocused. For the first time since she had stepped into this house, she felt something unfamiliar pressing against her control.
Not fear.
Not regret.
Uncertainty.
A soft movement beside her pulled her back.
Ethan.
He was already awake.
Watching her.
“How long have you been up?” he asked quietly.
Zara didn’t answer immediately.
Then—
“A while.”
His gaze didn’t shift.
“You didn’t sleep.”
It wasn’t a question.
Zara forced a faint smile.
“I’ll survive.”
Ethan studied her a moment longer.
Then—
“You don’t have to.”
The words were simple.
But they lingered.
Zara looked away.
Because that—
That kind of concern—
Was dangerous.
“I’m fine,” she said.
Ethan didn’t respond.
But he didn’t believe her either.
The Dining Table
The silence was worse than the questions.
Zara took her seat beside Ethan, her posture composed,...