The Voreaux estate stood tall under the moonlit sky, its grand halls dimly illuminated by the soft glow of myst lanterns. Within its heart, Duchess Aveline Voreaux sat alone in her private office, meticulously working through a pile of documents.
The large window behind her was open, allowing the evening breeze to flow through. The lanterns cast a golden hue over the rich mahogany desk, where a half-filled glass of wine rested beside an elegant quill and parchment.
Draped in a silken nightgown, Aveline exhaled slowly, rubbing her temples. Hours had passed, yet the workload seemed endless.
Leaning back in her chair, she tilted her head toward the ceiling, reaching for her glass of wine.
But just as she lifted it to her lips, her fingers slipped.
The glass tumbled down—
—and hit the floor.
Yet, there was no sound.
Aveline frowned.
She stared at the broken glass, waiting for the telltale clink of shards scattering across the marble floor. But there was only silence.
