The Devil’s Den

The morning at the dining room, sunlight slid through the sheer curtains like an uninvited guest. Hilda had already set the table with steaming plates of eggs and toast filling the air, making it homey. With a sense of home Mirabella hadn't felt in years.

Aria was the first to speak, nudging her mug of coffee closer. "So, what plans do you have now that you're back? Besides dealing with all this emotional weight like some tragic heroine."

I forced a half-smile, slicing my ...