The manor was unusually quiet.
No stampede of tiny feet along the upper corridor. No Sebastian challenging household rules with the creativity of a small war general. No Trevor pacing nearby with a phone in one hand and Dean balanced expertly in the other, like fatherhood was just another state secret he managed with ruthless competence.
Just sunlight.
It poured in through the tall windows of the east drawing room, golden, filling the air with the slow warmth of deep summer. The garden beyond shimmered slightly in the heat, the roses bowed with their own weight, and the fountain glinted in the sun like a memory. A breeze stirred the gauzy curtain but offered no relief.
