Author's POV

The cold wind swept across the garden, carrying the faint scent of winter flowers.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Elena stood where she was, her arm still raised from pointing toward the trash bin. The corner of the discarded wrapping bag was already disappearing behind the hedge as the servant continued pushing the cart toward the back gate.

Damien’s expression darkened instantly.

His eyes narrowed.

“Elena.”

His voice was low, cold.

Elena met his gaze without ...