Evelyn’s POV

The Blackwood mansion was a world Evelyn could not belong to, no matter how many days or weeks passed.

The ceilings arched impossibly high, chandeliers glittered like captured constellations, and every hallway was lined with artwork that looked like it belonged in a museum. But for all its grandeur, it felt cold. Too polished, too perfect. A house that wanted to remind her she was a guest, not family. A body without warmth, dressed in velvet and stone.

Evelyn often found ...