The scene felt like a bizarre, low-budget sequel to a movie she'd already starred in. Two weeks ago, it had been the same routine: Everly, a whirlwind of preparation from the crack of dawn, waiting for Cassian to whisk her away to the formidable Qin Manor. Today, it was a repeat performance, only the destination was a hospital, and the audience had changed.
Back then, the living room had been her lonely kingdom, a vast, silent space where she'd been the sole occupant, a princess waiting for a dragon that was, in reality, a very cold, very handsome mafia heir. Today, the kingdom was bustling.
Charles, Magnus, and Felix had already disappeared into their respective worlds of business and surgery, but the rest of the household was present, creating a low hum of background noise that was both comforting and utterly distracting.
So Everly waited, perched on an armchair in the living room, but she was no longer alone.
