The soft whisper of morning wind slipped through the open balcony doors, rustling the sheer white curtains like the gentle breath of a ghost. Sunlight spilled into the room in golden streaks, casting delicate patterns across the polished hardwood floor and the large, unmade bed where Sienna slowly stirred beneath the comforter.
Her eyes fluttered open, still heavy with the remnants of sleep. For a moment, she lay still, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm as she listened to the silence. It was a fragile kind of peace, the kind that only existed for a few stolen moments before the weight of reality pressed down again.
The events of the previous days floated just beneath the surface of her thoughts—like debris drifting underwater, threatening to break through. Her grandfather’s death. Damian’s abduction. The unexpected softness in Mr. Laurent’s voice when he’d promised to bring Damian back.