Tribulations.

Chapter 63.

Jasmine stirred against the silk sheets, her body gently curling into the warmth he had left behind. The scent of him still clung to the pillows—clean, masculine, addictive—but the bed was empty. Her eyes fluttered open, lashes heavy from sleep, only to meet the hollow side where he had once been. Cold.

A slow ache unfurled in her chest.

She blinked, as if trying to clear a fog. Maybe he had stepped out for a moment. Maybe he was in the shower, or by the window, waiting to see her eyes open. But the silence told a different story. The silence was too still. Too different from the previous one. And something about the moment sent her heart racing rapidly.

Then came the soft knock, followed by the creak of the door.

A maid stepped in, bowing low. “My lady.”

Jasmine pushed herself upright, the sheets falling from her bare shoulders. Her voice, when it came, was a fragile thread. She glared at the unfamiliar woman in her mid-forties. “Where is Jerald?”

The lady flinched—just