The house was unusually quiet when I got home that night.

The lights from the chandelier reflected against the polished floors, casting a soft golden hue that almost felt deceptive. Everything looked the same, yet I felt different walking in. The air carried that sterile, controlled chill that always lingered when Matthew worked late.

I slipped out of my heels and handed my bag to Chloe, the housekeeper. “Where’s Mr. Wellington?”

“In the study, ma’am. He’s been in a meeting for ...