[Rynthall Estate—The Morning Before the Naming Ceremony | Garden of Chaos]
The morning sun was warm.
The air smelled like rosewater, fried pastries, and the inevitable scent of disaster. In other words, it's a perfect day for a baby naming ceremony.
Well… it would've been.
If Silas and Seraphina weren't still glaring at each other from opposite ends of the garden like two generals preparing for a very sparkly war.
Lucien sat on a plush settee in the middle, holding his daughter and sipping what was definitely not tea—it was straight whiskey in a teacup. His eyes were shadowed with exhaustion. His hair was quite messy. His soul had already vacated the estate.
The soft golden sunlight filtered through the garden canopy, casting angelic beams across the courtyard—like the universe was trying really hard to pretend this wasn't absolute chaos in slow motion.
Meanwhile, in Lucien's arms—His daughter.
His tiny, sacred, beautiful, holy-grail-of-hormonal-emotions daughter…
