The Next Morning - Blackwood Mansion
Emily woke to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar windows.
For a moment, disorientation clouded her thoughts this wasn't her room. The bed was larger, the sheets softer, and there was a warm weight across her waist.
Then memory flooded back, and she turned her head slightly to find Timothy still asleep beside her, his arm draped over her protectively even in sleep.
They'd stayed at his office until nearly 2 AM, talking through everything. Her life in Norvale. The coup. Her uncle's systematic destruction of everyone loyal to her father. The months she'd spent confused and terrified in this new body.
And Timothy had listened to all of it, asked intelligent questions, started formulating plans before they'd even finished the wine.
When they'd finally returned to the mansion, neither of them had wanted to separate. Timothy had taken her hand and led her to his room not demanding, just asking with his eyes if she wanted to stay.
She had.
