Amara's POV

My blood ran cold. The sight of Isobel, the woman carrying Cassian's child, standing in his doorway was a cruel twist of fate. A part of me wanted to turn and run, to pretend I had come to the wrong house, but it was too late. The air between us was thick with unspoken tension.

"Can I help you?" Isobel asked, her voice dripping with annoyance. Her eyes, filled with a cold, haughty judgment, raked over my body, a silent accusation in their depths. "Who were you hoping to ...