Starla frowned faintly as she took it. "Thanks."
After the servant stepped away, she glanced at Soren, puzzlement flickering in her eyes while she opened the box—then her brows rose, caught off guard by what she found inside.
"It's from Lance…" Starla murmured, confusion and unease knitting her brows as she lifted a letter and a photograph from inside.
She read it in silence, lifting her eyes only when Soren spoke. "How is Mr. Lance? I hope he and Mr. Anthony Ashbourne are living peacefully now."
Starla handed him the letter, her gaze lingering on the picture of a sunset-lit sky.
"I still can't wrap my head around everything that happened," she said quietly. "It feels unreal… like a fevered dream." Her breath wavered. "Even though it took them a while to recover from the memory-wiping method, I'm glad my uncle spared them and had them sent away quietly, without further bloodshed."
