Chapter 25

Amelia sat in her grand but dimly lit living room, the weight of Father Michael’s words pressing heavily on her chest. The comfort of home did little to quell the storm brewing inside her. The air in the room was thick, as if even the walls shared in her despair. Her hands trembled slightly as she glanced at the untouched tray of food the maid had quietly placed beside her hours ago. She hadn’t eaten all day. The thought of food churned her stomach, amplifying the nausea rising from the pit of her guilt.

The door creaked open, breaking the stillness. Victor stepped inside, his presence imposing but gentle. His eyes, sharp and searching, immediately found hers. “Mother?” he called softly, his voice heavy with concern, though he tried to mask it. “Why haven’t you eaten?”

Amelia’s heart clenched at the sound of his voice, a son’s devotion wrapped in every syllable. She turned slowly, her gaze lingering on his face, the strong jawline that reminded her so much of his father. But her mind
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