Mara
We woke early, refreshed from the night before. After showering and dressing, Lucian and I headed to breakfast. It had been uneventful lately without Martha’s usual dramatics. Honestly, I missed the chaos a little—it had its own rhythm. Still, the peace had been a blessing.
Vander hadn’t banned her from the table. She’d simply stopped coming.
So when we walked into the dining room and found Martha seated at the table, I froze.
She looked thin—shockingly so. Her face was gaunt, her posture stiff. She reeked faintly of alcohol, and her eyes were too bright, too wide. There was something off—not just physically, but emotionally.
Tiffany caught my eye and gave me a small smile. I returned it, but my attention drifted back to Martha immediately.
“Good morning,” I greeted her cautious
