The dining room was the kind of space that communicated its owner without needing to try. Dark wood, high ceilings, a long table that had been set for two at one end with the specific, understated precision of a household that understood that setting a table properly was its own form of statement. The lighting was warm—low and considered, the kind that made food look intentional and conversation feel inevitable. Through the windows, the property's grounds were a dark, lamp-lit quiet.
Aurora sat across from Ray and thought about what to say.
