Author’s POVThe second living room in the Monroe estate was smaller than the grand hall that greeted visitors, but it lacked nothing in refinement. Polished wood gleamed under soft lamplight, velvet cushions sat untouched on carefully arranged seats, and the air carried the faint scent of incense that had long since burned out.Tonight, however, the room felt suffocatingly heavy like something unseen had settled over it and refused to lift.Isyra paced back and forth. Back and forth.Her steps were uneven, sharp against the floor, betraying the panic clawing its way through her chest. Her hands trembled at her sides, then clenched, then released again as though she could physically shake the fear out of herself if she moved enough.She couldn’t.Her mother sat slumped into one of the single-seater couches, her posture unusually collapsed, her elegance stripped away by exhaustion. Her face looked drawn, pale, and older than it had any right to be.And Elder Monroe— He sat upright, sti
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