CHAPTER 90 — THE GHOST THEY COULDN'T BURY
DELYSIA
There are mornings when silence feels like mockery.
The kind of silence that echoes louder than words, crawling through the walls, whispering of everything I once owned and everything I've lost.
I sit by the window of my marble dining hall, sipping lukewarm coffee I no longer taste. Outside, the world moves with cruel brightness the sun glowing on lives that don't deserve it. The maids move like ghosts, knowing better than to speak when I'm in this mood.
It's been years.
Years since I buried that wretched girl in the wreckage of her own shame.
Years since we made sure she'd never crawl back.
Or so I thought.
My daughter, Alora, was supposed to be my redemption the polished diamond of the Ravenwood legacy. She had beauty, wit, charm, and the ambition her father never did. I molded her with precision, taught her how to hold power without trembling. But no one tells you that even diamonds can crack.
