Ivanna sat on the couch, her back straight but her head slightly tilted,
her groggy eyes almost closed – she looked like she was about to drift off to sleep.
Caesar felt a pang of guilt wash over him;
he should have sent her a message that he would be late, he thought.
Before approaching her, Caesar turned to his butler, Jenkins,
who stood discreetly near the entrance hallway.
"Did she have dinner?" Caesar asked quietly.
Jenkins shook his head disappointedly,
his expression mirroring Caesar's growing concern.
Caesar's frown deepened as he strode towards Ivanna with long, gentle strides.
He reached out and softly tapped her shoulder,