The grand corridors of the Montgomery estate echoed softly under the delicate click of heels as Anastasia followed Eleanor, the revered matriarch, through the opulent halls. Everything about the mansion breathed wealth and legacy—from the high, frescoed ceilings to the velvet-draped windows that let in the pale morning light.
Anastasia kept her pace steady behind the older woman, her thoughts still swimming from dinner, from Dante's quiet intensity, and Camille's strange, lingering glances. She exhaled slowly.
