The mansion felt hollow.
Not quiet—hollow.
As though something had been torn out of its foundation, leaving behind space that no amount of silence could fill. The echoes of what had happened still clung to the walls, lingering in every corridor, every room, every breath Zara took.
Liam was gone.
Noah was gone.
And yet—
Nothing felt resolved.
Three days had passed.
Three days of questions, statements, and carefully controlled narratives. The authorities had taken Noah into custody. The story had already begun shaping itself outside the gates—family dispute, internal conflict, tragic escalation.
But inside—
The truth remained untouched.
Unspoken.
Unhealed.
Zara stood by the window again.
It had become a habit.
Or maybe a refuge.
Her hand rested lightly over her stomach now—not out of uncertainty anymore, but awareness. The life growing within her had become something real in a way nothing else could deny.
And with that reality came something heavier—
Responsibility.
Behind her, the door opened.
Softly.
She didn’t turn.
She knew.
Ethan.
His presence had changed.
Not in the way he carried himself physically—but in the way he held space. He no longer felt like a man trying to exist quietly within chaos.
He felt like someone who had stepped out of it.
“You should rest,” he said.
Zara let out a faint breath.
“I’ve had enough of that advice.”
A small pause.
Ethan moved further into the room.
“You haven’t been sleeping,” he said.
Zara turned then.
“And you have?”
Ethan didn’t answer.
Because they both knew.
Silence stretched between them, not tense—but...