The grand iron gates of the Thorne estate loomed in the misty evening air, their intricate patterns of coiled serpents and thorns casting long, twisted shadows beneath the lanterns that flanked the entrance. The carriage rumbled to a stop in the cobblestone courtyard, and the moment the door opened, the girl stepped out, her movements rigid with frustration.
Her black hair, normally pristine, was slightly tousled from the long journey, but she paid no mind to her appearance. The weight of failure pressed against her shoulders, an unbearable burden that only grew heavier as she walked up the stone steps toward the entrance.
Her father was waiting.
The grand doors opened before she could reach for them, and there he stood in the dimly lit hall. The flickering chandeliers cast harsh shadows across his sharp, imposing features. His cold, steel-gray eyes locked onto her, piercing through her like an unforgiving blade.
But his gaze did not linger on her face. It fell to her hands.
