Sunlight filtered through the grand windows of the mansion, bathing Delphinia's room in a warm, golden glow. The air smelled faintly of lavender from the diffuser on her nightstand, but despite the calm surroundings, her mind refused to rest. She stood by her vanity, arranging bottles of perfume and scattered jewelry, but her hands moved without thought, her mind trapped in the memory of the previous day.
The brush in her hand stilled as she replayed the sharp words and cold eyes of Helena. Delphinia's jaw clenched involuntarily. She had only intended to use the restroom during lunch, but instead, she'd overheard her stepmother, Helena, talking behind closed doors, her voice laced with venom even when muffled. And though Helena hadn't mentioned Delphinia's name directly, "Harrington to Walton" was more than enough for Delphinia to know she was the subject of the conversation.