Lucian
Mara reached for the glass of water on the bedside table, guiding the straw to Keisha’s lips. Her throat looked parched, her movements sluggish. We raised the bed so she could sit upright. She sipped slowly, the straw trembling between her fingers, while Mara stroked her hair in soft, steady motions.
“Nothing is your fault, Keisha,” Mara murmured, not yet knowing what was about to come.
Tears welled in Keisha’s eyes. “I didn’t know Tina was working with Chase Nighthorn,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I was the one who gave her the address to your holiday home, Mara.”
Mara froze but didn’t stop stroking her hair.
“She told me she wanted to send you a letter. Then I told her you’d moved back to the Mansion. I told her everything, everything I knew you and Lucian were doing.
