Evelyn had surrendered.

  Not just to the kiss, to the way Damian held her as if she was the most precious thing in his world, but to the undeniable truth—she loved him. And there was no taking it back.

  But love, as fierce as fire, always attracted the cold winds of opposition.

  Far away from the quiet moment they had stolen, Lady Celeste sat in the grand halls of Ashbourne Manor, her expression unreadable as she listeo the hushed whispers of her trusted fidantes.

  "She's dangerous," one of them murmured. "A wildfire that will e him. You must act before it's too te."

  Celeste's fiightened around the delicate por teacup in her grasp. She had seen the way Damian looked at Evelyn, the way his hardened edges softened in her prese was uable.

  Her son was meant to rule, not to be distracted by love.

  "She o be removed," Celeste finally said, her voice as cold as steel. "But not by foro… we will make her leave on her own."