The mansion was too quiet. Too still.
Adam Ravenstrong stood in the center of the living room like a man abandoned by time. Her scent still lingered—jasmine and something soft. Familiar. It clung to the fabric of the couch, to the collar of his coat she once touched.
He hadn't moved since she walked out not even when the front door clicked shut behind her. Not even when the silence screamed louder than her cries ever did.
He dragged a hand through his hair, his chest rising with a breath that didn't soothe anything. It burned. God, it burned.
Sofia.
She had always said his name like it was a soft plea. Like it meant something.
He squeezed his eyes shut—and it came rushing back. All of it. Every moment he tried to convince himself didn't matter.
Her laughter echoed down the hallway when she first explored the house. Her fingers brushed his hand at the breakfast table.
