To what, I did not yet know.
I did not return to his residence. Instead, I directed the driver to the Ashford estate—to Family headquarters.
The great hall stood nearly empty at this hour, vast and cold as a mausoleum. Marble floors gleamed like black ice beneath the crystal chandeliers. Shadows pooled in corners where the light could not reach.
Margaret Ashford waited by the grand staircase, as though she had known I would come. When her gaze found me, it was sharp as a stiletto—appraising, calculating, searching for weakness.
"You should not be here," she said. Her voice echoed against stone. "You should be with your betrothed. The alliance requires your presence at his side."
I inclined my head, keeping my voice steady. "I've only come to collect a few things."
She did not stop me. She did not ask questions.
Perhaps she already knew. Perhaps she had always known.
I climbed the stairs to the room that had once been called mine. The door opened onto memories I no longer wished to claim—childhood drawings tucked into a drawer, a music box that had belonged to someone I used to be.
I took only two things.
I left everything else to rot.