That night, after settling into the room Eleanor had prepared for us, Lyla tugged at my sleeve, her eyes gleaming with an excited yet hesitant light.
"There's something I want to show you," she said softly, her fingers curling slightly against my hand.
Curious, I let her lead me through the quiet halls of the Knight mansion. The grandeur of the estate was evident in every corridor, but there was something deeply personal about this part of the house. When we stopped in front of a particular door, Lyla hesitated for a moment before pushing it open.
Inside, the room was dimly lit by a soft, golden glow from the antique lamps. The walls were covered with framed photographs—countless moments frozen in time.
