Luna stood frozen as the elevator doors opened with a soft chime. A woman stepped out—elegant, silver-haired, wearing a tailored coat that spoke of wealth and refinement. Her face was lined with years of carefully hidden pain, and her eyes held secrets that seemed to weigh her down.

"Mrs. Vaughn," the woman said, her voice steady but gentle. "My name is Eleanor Vaughn. I believe we need to talk."

Grayson went rigid beside Luna. "Aunt Eleanor?"

The woman's gaze shifted to ...