Lora had been slipping into William's study almost every afternoon for the past week. What had started as careful, occasional visits had become a deliberate pattern. She understood something most people in this house missed: William was a stern, stiff man built like iron, but iron could still be shaped if you applied heat instead of force. Softness was her weapon. Men like him never saw it as a threat. Instead, it triggered that ancient instinct to protect, to play the hero. She made herself small, pleasant, and unassuming, and every time she left the room she could feel the balance shifting just a little more in her favor.
Today her excuse was returning a book from the library. She closed the study door quietly behind her, breathing in the familiar scent of aged leather, old cigar smoke, and polished wood. The heavy curtains kept the afternoon light muted and golden. She had not expected company.
