[Rynthall Estate—Three Months Later]
Chaos.
Big chaos.
Unapologetic, flamboyant, house-wide sparkling chaos. Because, of course, why would the Rynthall Estate ever be quiet?
Silence was a myth. Peace was a bedtime story. And today?
Well, today the estate was in full code-red meltdown.
Why?
Because their resident tornado in royal ribbons had vanished again.
"LITTLE MISS HAS VANISHED AGAIN!!" A maid screamed, running down the hallway like a flaming comet of anxiety.
Maids darted through the corridors like startled pigeons, skirts flying, hairpins falling. Footmen were crawling under tables. Enchanted brooms were thrown aside in the panic. Alphonso and Marcel were under a chaise lounge, whispering urgently.
"Little Miss?" Marcel called softly, lifting the curtains with trembling hands. "Are you hiding behind here again, your terror?"
"Check the nursery!"
"She's not under the crib!"
"Try the drawing room!"
"Did anyone check inside the laundry basket?!"
