Chapter 51: Finding Home

Eleanor Fairchild

The Thorne Estate was nothing short of magnificent.

Vast lands stretched far beyond what Cavendish Manor had ever encompassed. The estate was an empire in its own right, with rolling hills, lush gardens, and grand halls that whispered the history of generations past. And yet, despite its grandeur, it was not the house that made it home—it was Victor.

I stood on the balcony of our chambers, watching the morning mist rise over the estate’s endless fields. The air was crisp, the scent of damp earth and fresh blooms drifting toward me.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist.

“You’re awake early,” Victor murmured against my hair.

I leaned into him, letting his warmth seep into me. “I wanted to see the sunrise.”

His lips pressed a kiss to my temple. “You always were one for poetic moments.”

I smiled. “And you, ever the realist.”

He turned me in his arms, his dark eyes searching mine. “Do you regret it?”