The house felt different the moment we stepped inside.
Not warmer—nothing that dramatic—but different enough that I noticed it immediately.
Helen Moreau stood near the staircase, posture straight as ever, hands folded neatly in front of her. She looked exactly the same as she always had: composed, distant, unreadable. Val slowed beside me, fingers tightening around mine just slightly.
"Good morning," Val said first.
"Good morning, Mrs. Moreau," I followed.
For a fraction of a second, Helen only looked at us. Then she nodded. Just once.
"Your father and Lucien are waiting in the study," she said.
That was it.
No smile. No extra words.
But she had answered.
I felt Val react beside me—not outwardly, not in any way someone else would catch—but I knew her well enough to feel it. A quiet surprise. Something loosening.
"Thank you, Mom," Val said.
Helen nodded again, already turning away.
Val exhaled softly once we were out of sight.
"Did you see that?" she murmured.
