The fire crackled softly in the massive stone hearth, casting flickering shadows across the lodge’s timber walls. Lena sat curled on the leather couch, half a glass of red wine forgotten in her hand. The weekend getaway was meant to be romantic. A final celebration before the wedding. But Ethan had left hours ago, called back into the city for a sudden client crisis. She’d smiled and waved as he drove off, but the silence after his departure had settled heavy.
Everyone else had gone to bed. The laughter, the champagne, the toasts were over. Now there was only the fire, the storm outside, and the slow, curling unrest in her chest.
Then came the footsteps. Slow. Steady. Confident.
She didn’t need to look to know who it was.
Mr. Maddox.
Her fiancé’s father.
He stepped into the firelight
