Third Person POV
Viv Lancaster dabbed beneath her eye with a folded silk handkerchief as she stepped out of the hospital room with her husband. “She’s… not what I expected,” she murmured. “Stronger. Quieter.”
Nathaniel gave a small grunt in response, his gaze already scanning the hallway as though mentally filing everything away.
But both of them paused when they spotted their son Michael just a few feet down the hall—deep in conversation with the young woman who’d met up with them earlier.
Her name’s Harper, I think, Viv remembered silently. Celeste’s best friend. But her eyes narrowed as she watched them seemingly in an argument. The woman stood rigid, arms crossed, expression sharp.
The moment was fleeting. In a split-second burst of motion, Harper turned toward the hospital door, pushed it open, and disappeared inside before Michael could stop her—shutting the door firmly behind her.
Michael cursed under his breath and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Hhmmm,” Viv commented. “That on
