SERAPHINA’S POV
The door closed behind Celeste with a soft, final click.
I kept my gaze on the empty doorway, my thoughts catching on the image she had left behind—the way her composure had fractured before she turned away, the way her voice had faltered, the way she had looked at Mireya like she was standing on the edge of something she didn’t know how to face.
Guilt.
I had seen Celeste angry. Petty. Calculating. Cruel in ways I didn’t even know existed.
But guilt?
I didn’t even know she knew what the word meant.
I exhaled shakily, forcing my attention away from the door and back to the room.
Mireya stood where Celeste had left her, her posture still composed, her expression quiet but not shattered.
That, too, unsettled me.
When I arranged this meeting, I had expected something else entirely. Shock. Grief breaking through whatever control she had been holding onto. Some visible fracture that proved just how much Olivia had meant to her.
But Mireya hadn’t broken.
