Braelyn's POV
The door creaked open, and I slowly peered inside. As expected it was empty. Raphael was out and Amelia was occupied with her project. It was safe to conclude no one would come here but I can never be too sure
My hands were trembling on the door. This was the first time I had done something like this, and it felt like I was committing a heinous act. I pushed back those thoughts. This wasn't the time to be nervous or soft-hearted.
"You can do this, Braelyn." I urged myself as my eyes darted around his study.
Raphael's study was colder than I remembered. Dark walnut shelves lined the walls, filled with neatly arranged files, leather-bound journals, and the faint scent of cedar and whisky lingering in the air. The room was oozing with his presence. It turns out he was still spending hours here that bloody workaholic.
Only if he had a heart attack while working then my problem would be fixed.
