The moon sagged low in the sky, heavy and pale like an exhausted witness, its light slipping through the lace curtains of Eliana's bedroom and spilling across the polished floors of the Vexley mansion. Everything in the room felt still—too still. The kind of stillness that presses on your lungs and makes breathing feel like work.
The clock on her nightstand continued its cruel march toward dawn, ticking loudly in the quiet room. Each click-pause-click taunted her, a reminder that sleep had abandoned her hours ago.
Eliana lay curled on her side, one hand instinctively resting over the soft curve of her belly. The warmth beneath her palm was the only thing grounding her, the only thing forcing her to remember why she had agreed to all this madness in the first place. Her honey-brown eyes were open, unfocused, staring straight through the wall as if she could force herself into another reality entirely.
