The mansion was quiet when they returned, cloaked in a kind of stillness that didn't match the warmth still humming in their bodies.
Adam had his hand resting gently on the small of Sofia's back, guiding her through the doors like he couldn't stand to be apart from her for even a second. The ride home had been filled with stolen glances, hands that lingered a little too long, and a shared silence heavy with something unspoken—but whole.
Until the moment they stepped inside.
And saw her.
A woman stood in the foyer—elegant, severe, unmoved. She wore a pearl-gray blouse that matched the cold set of her mouth, her hair twisted into a perfect chignon, not a strand out of place. Her eyes, dark and discerning, swept over Adam first with narrowed calculation.
Then... they passed over Sofia.
Not paused. Not softened.
Just passed over her, like she was furniture.
Sofia's breath caught. The air shifted. And Adam—his entire posture changed.
