The atmosphere around the manor was tense. Jasper paced the corridors, his senses sharper than ever. The air felt heavy, suffused with an ominous presence that refused to dissipate. He couldn't shake the sensation—Serf's pawns were nearby, watching, waiting. Jasper clenched his fists, his predatory instincts screaming for him to act. Nicole was his pride and joy, and he would lay waste to anything or anyone who dared threaten her and their unborn children.
A day passed in this uneasy stillness. Nicole remained in her room, her frail body draped in soft blankets as she sat by the window, lost in thought. Her hand subconsciously rested on her belly, a gesture of both hope and protection. The knock on the door startled her.
"Come in," she called weakly.
Jasper entered, his expression unusually soft. "How are you feeling, my love? I hope better than yesterday."
Nicole smiled faintly, though her voice betrayed her exhaustion. "I'm fine, Jasper. Just a little tired."
