Jasper's POV
The Whitmore mansion was quiet when I arrived, but not the kind of quiet that comes from peace. It was the kind of silence that vibrates through your bones, the kind that makes even footsteps sound like intrusions.
The butler led me to the drawing room where the family was already gathered. The moment I stepped inside, I felt their eyes on me ,not hostile, not welcoming, but watchful.
Robert Whitmore stood near the fireplace, his posture rigid, his silver hair glowing faintly in the firelight. Authority clung to him like a second skin. Evelyn sat on the sofa, her hand resting gently over Belle's, her presence softer but no less commanding in its own way. Belle herself sat stiff, her gaze fixed on her lap, shoulders tense, her whole body radiating exhaustion.
For a moment, I just stood there, struck by the sight of her. Even broken, even furious at me, she carried herself with a grace I couldn't ignore. And it made the weight in my chest worse.
