Dahlia's POV
The sound of cheerful laughter drifted from the room across the hall, creating an atmosphere that felt almost dreamlike in its warmth.
Had my mother's condition been different, had Diane never endured such trauma, perhaps this scene of domestic bliss could have been genuine.
Drawing in a slow breath, I pushed down the ache that threatened to surface. Forcing my lips into a smile, I allowed Soren to guide me by the hand into the living space.
Lorena watched our entrance with knowing eyes, her expression radiating a satisfaction that made her look remarkably similar to my mother in that moment.
The resemblance was striking and unsettling.
This is merely performance, I reminded myself. How could she possibly believe this charade? What favorable outcomes could emerge from such a hasty union? Most importantly, the gulf between Soren's station and mine made any real future impossible.
