The velvet canopy above her bed fluttered slightly with the breeze of the central cooling system, the faint hum blending with the soft ticking of the Langley estate's antique grandfather clock. The light from Victoria's crystal chandelier bathed her room in gold, casting gentle glows along the ivory walls lined with portraits and imported oil paintings.
She lay sprawled atop her silk duvet, her long legs crossed, the sleeves of her pale satin nightgown slipping slightly down her shoulder as she held her phone just above her face. Her other hand idly twirled a strand of her hair.
The house was quiet—far too quiet. Dinner had been a long performance, full of hollow smiles and careful silence. Her father had commented on the upcoming charity gala. Her mother, as always, had remarked on posture, diction, and image.
But now, they were gone.
And she could breathe.
[Chat – Marek 💬]
Marek:
Did I go too far?
Victoria's perfectly glossed lips pulled into a subtle smile.
Victoria:
