CHAPTER 47

I pulled away from Heinrich’s embrace slowly, gently, almost reluctantly. There was something about the way he held me—tight, desperate—that told me he feared I was slipping through his fingers. Maybe part of me was. I gave him a faint nod, not trusting my voice to speak without shaking, and then I turned, walking out of his study and back into the hallway.

The house was still quiet, but now it felt heavier, like my thoughts had filled every corner. My footsteps echoed faintly against the marble tiles as I made my way back upstairs, every step weighing a little more than the last. The moment I stepped into our bedroom, I felt my chest constrict again. This room had become a strange blend of comfort and conflict—his scent lingered, the bed was still unmade, and the silence pressed in from the walls like judgment.