Caroline was startled awake by a knock on her door. Her heart jolted, adrenaline rushing through her veins. She didn't even think to check her reflection or compose herself. The first thought that tore through her mind was Lucien. Maybe he'd come back. Maybe he had made his mind. Maybe he wanted to talk.
Still in her nightshirt, eyes puffed from sleep and her hair in a wild mess, Caroline jumped off the bed and rushed to the door. But as she swung it open, all the eager hope drained from her face, replaced by a chilling dread.
It wasn't Lucien.
Standing before her in a tailored dark coat and a steel expression was none other than Charles DuPont—her father.
He didn't wait to be invited in. He brushed past her with the cold familiarity of a man used to owning everything he walked into. His presence filled the apartment like a storm cloud, quiet but suffocating. Caroline slowly shut the door behind him, her breath catching in her throat.
