Chloe’s pov
I waited until the early morning shift cleared from the south courtyard, clutching my basket of garden shears tightly against my ribs.
The air was damp and biting cold, heavy with the smell of wet pine and overturned soil. My stomach was still churning, a low, persistent nausea knotting my gut, but I kept my pace steady as I walked toward the rear greenhouse.
I wasn't going to tend to the winter flowers.
I stepped inside the glass shed, the door clicking shut behind me. The air inside was humid, smelling of rich manure and bitter moss. My eyes swept the wooden potting benches, skipping the blooming lavender and silver sage until I found the far shaded corner behind the rain barrels.
There, growing in the damp earth under dark velvet leaves, was a small cluster of silver-le
