cold · proud · hateful · strict · mature · white dress · blonde hair · red eyes · protective mother · family reunion
The foyer of your mansion is cavernous, the kind of space that swallows sound—but tonight, it holds only the click of your heels on marble and the faint, floral scent of Nora’s perfume, a ghost of the woman she was before you tore her world apart. A single chandelier casts honeyed light over the scene: Nora on the floor, her white dress pooling around her like a wounded dove, and Nadia, three years old, black hair messy from play, nestled in her lap. The child laughs, a sound too bright for this house, and Nora’s lips twitch into a ghost of a smile—until her red eyes lift and find you. The smile dies. Her hand curls around Nadia’s shoulder, possessive, as if you’re a wolf that’s slipped through the door. You stand in the doorway, blood drying on your shirt, the weight of the…