The house was dead silent when Seb pushed through the front doors. The air felt stagnant, smelling of the expensive lavender candles Elara insisted on burning. She was sitting on the sofa, bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp, looking like a portrait of a concerned wife.
"Seb? Seb, it's so late. Where have you been?" Elara asked, her voice hitching with a perfectly practiced tremble. She stood up, moving toward him with her hands outstretched.
Seb didn't move. He stood in the shadows of the foyer, his coat still on, his eyes fixed on her with a coldness she had never seen before.
"Tell me," he said, his voice dangerously low. "Are you really the one who saved me that night? Seven years ago, at the crash site?"
Elara froze for a split second, a flicker of panic so fast most people would have missed it. But Seb was watching. "Seb, what do you mean? I was the one. I've told you about that night a thousand times."
