The fire in the hearth crackled softly, but Olivia felt no warmth. Her fingers played absentmindedly with the edge of the curtain as she stood near the window, eyes fixed on the courtyard where Rishtel carriage was leaving. Her heart raced—half from confusion, half from something she didn't dare name.
The door creaked open. She didn't need to turn.
"You should knock," she said quietly.
Damon didn't answer immediately. The door shut behind him with a soft click, and the silence stretched thin.
"I wanted to see you," he said at last, his voice low.
Damon stopped behind her, silent for a beat. "I thought you'd be asleep."
"How could I?" She finally turned to face him, her eyes shining—not from the moonlight, but from everything she had buried behind them. "Why does he wants to marry Oriana? What does he need from me?"
Damon exhaled slowly. "It was unavoidable."
"And my kids?" Her voice cracked now. "what if he harm them?"
"he wouldn't."
