The figure entered quietly, his steps scarcely stirring the air. Anna froze, unsure how to react. Anger swirled within her—not at the figure, but at herself. Her gaze hardened as she turned to Roland.
"Please leave, Sir Roland," she said, her voice steady but cold.
Roland's brow furrowed. He had not expected such a response.
"William will hurt you, Anna," he said, his voice both pleading and searching, as though striving to understand her.
She refused to meet his eyes. "Leave," she repeated, softer this time but unyielding.
The silence in the room thickened as William's valet stepped forward, his presence impossible to ignore. Anna's heart clenched, perhaps it was fortune's mercy that it was only the valet and not William himself.
The man's piercing gaze swept the room, lingering first on Anna, then upon Roland. The silence stretched, the tension unmistakable.
