Modric’s POV
Mary Ann’s empty chair disturbed me more than it should have.
The place beside mine had been set as usual. Her plate had been tested and sealed. Her cup waited beside the folded napkin, and the chair remained pulled back as though she might still enter at any moment.
She did not.
Greta’s words remained in my mind.
“She chose to eat with the orphaned children tonight.”
Chosen.
The word irritated me.
Mary Ann had chosen not to wait.
For weeks, I had arrived late or missed dinner completely, assuming she would continue sitting at the formal table because duty required it. I had never considered what the room felt like when she sat alone beneath the watchful eyes of servants and elders.
Now I understood.
The dining room seemed unnecessarily large without her.
Alpha Vik
