Mansion Wisteria, 9 a.m.
The sun shone brightly, casting a dazzling light, yet the air remained crisp and cold. Morning dew clung to the leaf tips, dripping slowly and dying the trees and wild grass a fresh vibrancy, while the soil beneath appeared darker and damper than usual.
A similar stillness enveloped the third-floor bedroom near the master suite, where the sole heir of the Synders family resided. With blackout curtains expertly designed to block out sunlight, the room—an elegant blend of soft brown and white hues—remained shrouded in darkness, as though night still lingered within its secluded walls.
Kyra, lying on the king-sized bed, pulled the bedcover over her head. She buried herself entirely in the warmth of the blanket. Her eyes remained shut, showing no sign of waking up even though the day had already turned to morning.
