Eleanor Croft stared out the window of her bedroom, anxiety gnawing at her stomach. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the floor. She checked her phone again—still no message from the lab.
"Madam?" Martha's soft voice came from behind her. "Would you like your tea now?"
Eleanor turned, forcing a smile. "Yes, thank you."
As Martha poured the steaming tea into a delicate china cup, Eleanor's thoughts remained fixed on the DNA test. What if her suspicions were correct? What if Lyra was actually...
"Any word from the laboratory?" she asked quietly.
Martha shook her head. "Not yet, madam. They promised results by noon today."
Eleanor checked her watch—only nine in the morning. Three more hours of this torturous waiting.
"Mr. Moreau is asking for you downstairs," Martha added. "He seems agitated about something."
