Isabella Blackwood found me still locked in the study an hour later, her knock soft and hesitant against the door, entirely unlike the confident, elegant woman I’d come to know over the past weeks, the one who’d welcomed me to this family with a warmth none of the Harts had ever managed.“Evelyn. It’s just me.” Her voice carried through the wood, careful, almost nervous. “Please, open the door. I need to speak with you.”I hesitated, Damian’s warning still ringing in my ears, but something in her tone, some raw vulnerability I’d never heard from her before, made me cross the room and turn the lock.She stood in the doorway looking older than I’d ever seen her, the elegant composure she wore like armor at every event stripped away, replaced by something exhausted and afraid.“May I come in?”I stepped back to let her pass, and she crossed to the window instead of sitting, staring out at the darkened grounds with her arms wrapped tight around herself.“I sent the message,” she said, so
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