When Willow came downstairs, the keys, the letter, and the deed were already laid out neatly on the kitchen table.
Morning light spilled through the kitchen windows in a way that felt too sharp for what was waiting there, catching on the polished surface of the table and turning the metal of the keys faintly reflective. The room carried a stillness that had nothing to do with peace and everything to do with preparation. Zane stood near the counter, unmoving, his posture controlled in a way that suggested he had been standing there for some time, replaying the moment she would walk in and see what he had placed between them.
Her face changed the moment she saw them.
