Meredith.
As soon as Draven finished drying my hair, he handed the towel back to me with a quiet firmness. "Go inside," he said. "Let your maids finish it properly with the dryer."
I stood up without complaint. For once, there was no anger boiling beneath my skin. No retorts. Just… calm.
I murmured a soft "Thank you" and began walking back toward the house, holding the towel to my hair.
Draven followed, but kept a polite distance—just enough not to crowd me, but close enough to be present.
But I didn't expect to cross paths with Wanda the second I walked into the house. Talk about a day going perfectly well.
Wanda appeared from a small path on the side, arms folded and that insufferable smirk already tugging at her lips.
"Well, well," she said, stepping directly into my path. "Looks like your marriage's been falling apart lately, hasn't it?"
My lips parted—ready to slice her down with words—but before I could respond, Draven's voice behind me cut through the air like a blade.
