Abigail’s POV

My eyes snapped open, and I shot up in bed, my heart pounding as reality settled in, the hazy edges of the dream fading into the room around me. I wasn’t in my room. The bed beneath me was softer, luxurious in a way that hinted at wealth.

The silk sheets, the dark wood furnishings, the muted, tasteful elegance— then I spotted a framed picture on the nearby dresser—a man in a crisp suit with a severe gaze. I was in Charles’s room.

My ...