Late October.
Serena sat by the window in Emily's sitting room, staring at the afternoon light fading against the rooftops. The sky looked bruised, as though even the day itself had fought too hard to survive.
Leonard's case had not moved an inch. The ministers still whispered, the courts still delayed. Christopher Cross — the man who had promised her power, protection, perhaps salvation — had delivered everything save for what she truly needed.
And yet, every night, her thoughts found him.
She told herself she was tired. Tired of his control. Tired of her shame. Tired of mistaking his possession for care.
She had given him everything already — her body, her silence, her dignity. There was nothing left for him to take. And still, he wanted more.
Maybe that was what frightened her most — that she kept giving.
