AVA'S POV
I had always thought the Kingsley mansion was cold, itshalls too wide, its silence too heavy, but nothing prepared me for how it would feel after the dinner party.
The chandeliers still glimmered with the echoes of last night's spectacle, and the faint scent of lilies lingered in the air, a haunting perfume that reminded me of everything we'd staged and everything we failed to conceal.
Ethan had retreated into himself again, withdrawing into his home office without a word.
I hadn't seen him since our rehearsed smiles vanished with the last guest. No goodnight. No apology. No explanation.
Only the sound of a closing door.
I wandered the corridors like a ghost, dragging my fingers
along polished wood railings and passing maids who curtsied with averted eyes.
None of them spoke to me unless I asked them something directly.
They treated me with reverence, but it was hollow. I was a figurehead, a legal bride, not a
loved one.
