Seraphina's POV
After the commotion finally settled in Lucien's penthouse and the Carters were thrown out like the trash they were, silence slowly returned.
It wasn't the peaceful quiet of a home; it was the heavy, kind of silence that follows a storm, where the air is still thick.
I sat at the edge of my bed for a long moment, staring blankly at the dark wood of the door after Lucien left with his men.
My body still ached from the bruises hidden beneath the thick silk of my robe. Every shallow breath was a reminder of my father's hands on me, the weight of the guards, and the hollow, mocking laughter in Marina's eyes.
But strangely, the pain didn't make me feel weak. It didn't make me want to curl into a ball and hide from the world. Instead, the pain made me angry, and honestly, anger was easier to carry than fear. Fear made you feel helpless, but anger gave you something to fight with. It kept me going.
