Anastasia took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with a quiet ache as her fingers curled tightly into trembling fists. The corridor outside the basement felt cold, too silent, as if the walls themselves held their breath. She stared blankly ahead, blinking back the hot tears burning her vision. The weight of Juliette's words echoed violently in her mind, each one sharper than the last. She had grown up with Juliette—celebrated birthdays with her, whispered secrets in darkened hallways, and shared childhood laughter beneath the chandelier-lit halls of their estate. But now, all of that felt like a cruel illusion.
Juliette had tried to kill her.
