Bound by fire, Claimed by love

That night, Evelyn found sleep elusive.

She lay in her chambers, staring at the ceiling, the memory of Damian's touch still warm on her skin. Yet, no matter how much she tried to hold onto that warmth, a cold dread settled deep in her bones.

Something was wrong.

It wasn't just Alistair's cryptic words. It was a feeling—an instinct that had saved her before. The same unease that had whispered to her when her family began losing power, when invitations stopped coming, when the so-called friends of House Ravenshire turned away one by one.

Evelyn exhaled sharply, pushing herself up from bed.

I won't sit here and wait for the storm to come.

If something was brewing, she needed to be ready.

Quietly, she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and stepped out onto the dimly lit corridor. The manor was silent, save for the occasional flicker of candlelight from the sconces along the walls.

Perhaps Isabelle would know something.

She had been part of high society for years, moving through gossip circles with ease. If there was a whisper of a connection between Lady Celeste and Duke Graves, Isabelle might have heard it.

Determined, Evelyn made her way toward her friend's guest quarters—only to halt when she heard voices from a nearby room.

Not just any voices.

Lady Celeste.

And… Alistair Graves.

Her breath caught.

She pressed herself against the cold stone wall, staying just beyond the flickering candlelight. The door was slightly ajar. Just enough for her to hear.

"…I did what was necessary," Lady Celeste's voice was firm, but there was an edge to it. A warning. "And I will not have you meddling further."

Alistair chuckled, a low, knowing sound. "Necessary? You mean you were protecting him? Or yourself?"

A tense silence followed.

Evelyn's heart pounded. Protecting who?

Lady Celeste's voice dropped to a whisper. "You have already done enough. Leave this place."

Alistair let out a slow breath. "Careful, Celeste. If the truth comes out, even you won't be able to stop the consequences."

Then footsteps.

Evelyn barely had time to slip into the shadows before Alistair strode past, his expression unreadable.

She remained frozen, her mind racing.

What truth? Who was Lady Celeste protecting?

One thing was clear—this was bigger than a mother's disapproval of her son's betrothed.

And Evelyn was now caught in the middle of it.