One Month Later
The mansion had always been large enough to qualify as a diplomatic hazard, but the last month had reshaped its atmosphere entirely. It wasn't silent, too many people worked here for that, but the noise had softened. Doors were closed more carefully. Conversations dropped in volume. Even the air vents seemed to hum quieter, as if they were afraid of disturbing the baby.
Elias stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows in the upstairs lounge, their daughter resting against his shoulder in a soft cream onesie, one tiny fist curled against his collarbone. Morning sunlight slid over the hardwood floors, warm and unhurried, catching the dark strands of her hair.
