November 29th: Sera's First Birthday
Isla woke before dawn. Stared at the ceiling. And thought: one year.
One year ago, she'd been in labor. Giving birth alone. Calling Killian from the hospital to tell him he had a daughter.
One year ago, everything had changed.
Now Sera was one. Walking—barely, but walking. Saying "mama" and "dada" and "no." Growing into a tiny person with opinions and preferences and a personality that was unmistakably Killian's.
Stubborn. Determined. Absolutely certain she was in charge.
Isla had planned a party. Small. Just family and close friends. Mara. Luca. Catherine. Dmitri. Their father.
And Viktor—who'd asked to be included. Who'd been sending gifts monthly. Who wanted to be part of his granddaughter's life.
The apartment was decorated. Balloons. Streamers. A cake shaped like a crown because Sera was a princess. A queen's daughter.
The empire's heir. Even if she didn't know it yet.
