The world outside might have been bracing for a bright morning, but inside the penthouse, time had congealed into a thick, suffocating darkness. Anna lay motionless beneath the silk sheets, staring at the ceiling with hollow eyes. Evelyn's video confession was a slow-acting venom, seeping into the very marrow of her bones.
Siblings.
Every lingering ghost of Alaric's touch on her skin now felt like a festering chemical burn. Nausea roiled in her gut. How had they crossed the line so irrevocably?
In the study, Alaric's voice was a low, chilling drone as he barked orders to Aris to trace Evelyn's signal. He didn't sound like a man broken by the truth. On the contrary, he seemed more formidable than ever—as if this incestuous brand was a crown of thorns he was destined to wear.
"I have to go," Anna whispered to the silence.
