The days dragged slowly inside Crane’s mansion. Lara had mastered the art of avoidance—her footsteps never lingered where his were, her meals always taken in her room, never at the grand dining table.Still, Crane left his mark.Every morning, before heading to work, a single rose and a folded note appeared neatly at her door. Good morning, Lara. Every evening, before retreating to his study, his voice rumbled low outside her chamber. Goodnight, Lara.She read every note, though she pretended not to. She heard every word, though her lips never replied. Her heart fluttered at his persistence, but her mind replayed his cruel dismissal, his sharp words. Warmth met cold every time she thought of him, and she built her walls higher.One quiet afternoon, she wandered into the garden. The late sun spilled over the leaves, and butterflies floated around her, landing softly on her arm, on her hair. The scene painted her in gold, and when Alex arrived, he f
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