(Ruby's POV)
Kai's smile doesn't reach his eyes.
He stands in the middle of the main hall like he owns it. Maybe he thinks he does. His suit is perfect. His hair is perfect. Everything about him is polished and fake, like a mask made of skin.
"The conservatory is such a lovely space," he says, folding my mother's sketch and tucking it into his jacket pocket. "So much light. So many memories." He looks at me, and his voice drops to something softer, almost kind. "Your mother used to paint there, you know. Hours and hours, lost in her work. She was so dedicated. So... intense."
My nails dig into my palms. "I know."
"Do you?" He tilts his head, studying me like I'm a puzzle he's trying to solve. "I wonder how much you really know, Ruby. About your mother. About her state of mind. About the choices she made."
Nicholas moves to stand beside me, his shoulder almost touching mine. A silent show of support. "Uncle, if you have something to say—"
