A week later, the manor was still. Too still.
Lucas stood in his office, coffee cooling between his hands, the wide windows open to the morning light. From here, he could see the gardens stretching in perfect symmetry, hedges trimmed, gravel paths raked smooth, and staff moving with quiet precision as though the world outside the estate had never touched this place. Beyond the walls, the city's skyline glinted faintly, steel and glass caught by the sun.
Everything looked in order. Controlled to the point of absurd that defined Trevor.
Except him.
He lifted the mug halfway to his mouth and stopped, staring into the dark liquid instead. A bitter laugh caught in his throat, unvoiced. Coffee had become his constant, his small anchor, but not even the heat in his palms chased off the whisper gnawing at the back of his mind.
What if it hadn't worked?
