Days bled into one another, each one a lonely echo of Alaric's absence.
Daphne found herself unable to do anything serious, the joy of life gone with him.
She missed him so fiercely, and her only comfort was praying for his safety in their private chapel.
Then, one quiet afternoon, the silence of the estate was broken by the sound of a carriage rumbling down the long drive.
It was her brother, Finn.
He rushed inside, his face pale and etched with worry. He pulled her into a tight embrace, but there was an urgency to his grip.
"Daphne," he said, his voice raw with fear.
"It's Lianna. She's... she's having some complications with the pregnancy." He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes desperate.
"She's only three months along, and the pains have been getting worse. We've had every physician look at her, but they can't find anything wrong. I don't know what else to do, but I... I trust you. I need you to help her."
