The Harrington estate felt eerily quiet, its opulence doing little to hide the tension brewing within its walls. The long halls, lined with old portraits and fancy chandeliers, felt colder than usual. With every step, Helena's sharp gaze and polished appearance radiated control. Her heels tapped loudly on the shiny marble floor, each step seeming to carry a warning.
She came to a stop outside a grand oak door. It was Lyvia's room, and it had remained shut for the better part of the day. Helena's lips pressed into a thin line as she stared at the ornate brass handle, her patience wearing thin. She raised her hand and knocked firmly.
"Lyvia," she called. "Open the door."
There was no response. Helena's jaw tightened. She knocked again, louder this time. "I said, open this door immediately!"
From the other side came a muffled reply, weak but defiant. "Go away."
