–Livana–
I sat across from my father and Grandpa Reagan in the library of the Blackwell residence. Even without sight, I could feel their gazes on me—curious, assessing, trying to read the reason why I had summoned them.
"Your grandmother asks if you could stay at the mansion," Father began. His tone carried that same rehearsed warmth I had long grown tired of. "I know the Blackwells spoil you and Laura, but your grandmother misses you."
"Hmm." I leaned back, resting my head against the tall sofa's curved wings. They framed me like a throne. "I would like to… but Damon is protective. And truthfully, I don't wish to leave the residence. I have no energy to travel, and the fog in my head lingers."
"Then I'll visit often, with your aunt," Gregory replied.
I paused. That suited me—for now. Louie had yet to bring me the evidence that would damn her for my mother's death. Until then, silence was wiser than confession.
