CHAPTER 104 — WHEN PATIENCE BREAKS FIRST
The first sign that patience was cracking did not arrive as noise.
It arrived as haste.
Elena sensed it before the reports confirmed it—an imbalance in rhythm, a faint misstep in what had long been a carefully choreographed dance. The estate woke to the same controlled quiet it always did: footsteps measured, doors opened and closed without excess sound, schedules followed with disciplined precision. Yet beneath that surface, something was misaligned, like a clock ticking just slightly too fast.
Pressure, when held too long, always sought release.
She stood by the window of her bedroom, fingers resting lightly against the glass, watching the early morning fog thin across the gardens. Dew clung to the hedges, turning the paths into pale silver lines. Normally, the sight brought a sense of clarity, a reminder that time could be stretched, managed, bent to will.
Today, it felt like a warning.
