The Stranger Hidden in My Sketchbook
The mansion that had once felt quiet and carefully controlled was now filled with wedding planners, designers, florists, security coordinators, tailors, and family members coming and going throughout the day.
Yet among all the wedding preparations, one task mattered more to Lyra than choosing flowers or deciding seating arrangements.
Moving her secret room.
Or rather, her museum.
The room that had protected her through years of loneliness.
The room that had witnessed every victory, every heartbreak, every sleepless night.
The room that contained Carl Hart.
And Arsen insisted on moving everything himself.
"No movers."
Lyra laughed.
"Arsen, there are thousands of items."
"No movers."
"At least