MAILAH WOKE with one certainty:
Grayson was gone.
A note rested on her pillow, his handwriting neat and unhelpfully calm:
"This will be the last night we share a room before the wedding."
She stared at it like it had personally betrayed her.
"Rude," she muttered at the paper as if it would apologize.
The villa was too bright, too quiet, and far too large to be Grayson-less. Even the shadows looked bored. She dragged herself downstairs only to find the dining table set like it was preparing for a monarchy—silverware polished, flowers blooming far too aggressively, and—
"Good morning, bride," Liora chirped.
Liora, their hyper-efficient, terrifyingly capable wedding planner, stood in the center of the room holding a clipboard thicker than a spellbook. Her bun was tight enough to qualify as a weapon.
Mailah blinked. "Why do you look… extra organized today?"
