At that moment, I rose abruptly, my gaze locking onto the two bouquets that had arrived within a span of minutes, my instincts tightening as I tried to make sense of the inconsistency. Why would Nigel send two separate offerings in such a short time, especially when his intent had always been clear and controlled?
I stepped forward, positioning myself in front of the larger rose arrangement, the subtle energy within the room shifting as I reached out. My fingers brushed against the card tucked among the stems, and I retrieved it, my eyes scanning the brief message: a simple line expressing hope for a favorable outcome for his patience, signed with the Pesgrave name and marked with a date beneath.
My eyes widened as recognition struck, my breath catching for a brief moment.
Pesgrave.
