The silence in the mansion was almost eerie as Nora stepped inside. The black shirt clung to her slim frame, tucked neatly into ash-gray pants. Her black-and-white shoes clicked faintly against the polished floors. Her presence was sharp—quiet, but not unnoticed.
Everyone was waiting.
Shaw sat rigidly on one of the velvet chairs, his fingers intertwined as he tried to make sense of what Aveline had just told him. Zayan stood near the window, unmoving, arms crossed, eyes stormy. The others lingered in the background, watching her like she was a ghost come back to life.
Miss Aveline stood first.
"Uhmm… Nora," she said, her soft Polish accent weaving through the words.
Nora stopped mid-step, turning slightly, calm but cautious. "Yes, ma'am?"
"I… I want to ask you something."
Nora blinked slowly. "Okay," she replied.
All eyes were on her. She felt it—their curiosity, their confusion. Even Zayan's gaze burned into her skin.
"Why…" she began, voice cracking slightly. "Why is everyone looking at me like that? I didn't steal anything. I didn't do anything wrong… did I?"
Aveline shook her head. "No, you didn't. But… do you know anything about your mother? Or your family?"
The room held its breath.
Nora's expression darkened. Her jaw clenched. Her voice was colder now. "I have one family. That's the orphanage. That's it."
Shaw leaned forward. His Italian accent was heavy, yet gentle. "But you… you look like Lilith. My father—he had those same eyes. You have his features. His presence."
And that was the final crack.
"I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING OR ANYONE!" Nora's voice thundered through the hall, raw and trembling. "IF ANYONE ASKS ME AGAIN, I SWEAR I'LL LOSE MY FUCKING MIND!"
She took a step back, rage and pain radiating from her like fire.
"EVEN IF I HAD A MOTHER—SHE WOULD'VE NEVER LEFT ME TO DIE! I ONLY HAVE NANA AND ASHER… FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"
She stormed off before anyone could say another word.
The door slammed so hard, the echo hung in the air like smoke. Aveline slowly sat back down, her heart heavy. Shaw dropped his gaze to the floor, silent. The others began murmuring in low tones, unsure of what to say, afraid to say the wrong thing.
Night fell like a curtain of sorrow over the mansion.
When all was quiet, Zayan moved through the halls like a shadow. He paused by each door—checking if anyone else was still awake. No sounds. No movement.
He reached Nora's room.
He pushed the door open gently and found her curled on the floor, asleep—face stained with tears, fists clenched, body shivering.
She had cried herself to sleep.
Without a word, Zayan knelt beside her, lifting her with care. He laid her softly on the bed, then slipped under the covers beside her. Locking the door behind him, he wrapped his arms around her small frame, cradling her like a broken bird.
He didn't speak.
Didn't try to fix it.
He just held her—his chest pressed to her back, his chin resting lightly in her hair, his heart breaking quietly with hers.
The moonlight poured through the window, bathing them in silver, and for the first time that night, the mansion knew peace.