The morning lay cloaked in an almost deafening silence. You found yourself ensconced in bed, your gaze fixed vacantly upon the sliver of light that crept through the thick curtains, casting a soft glow upon the carpet. How did your life become ensnared in this relentless cycle of chaos? The enigmatic murder of Margaret had been swiftly followed by the haunting suicide of your niece Louise, alongside the unraveling mind of your older brother. You had even accustomed yourself to soothing Richmond after his tormenting nightmares, caring for him amidst the shadows of his despair. Yet, following his violent altercation with Charles, he had been confined to a psychiatric hospital, leaving you adrift in a vast sea of isolation. Loneliness encircled you like a heavy fog within the sprawling expanse of your new London home.

The delicate sound of the door creaking open filled the stillness, a far cry from the usual footsteps of the butler. Instead, it was Charles Howard. With gentle hands, he drew back the curtains, allowing the golden rays of sunlight to pour in, illuminating the dust particles that danced like tiny fairies in the morning light. Man moved with a quiet grace, an innate understanding of your need for solace. Sitting down beside you, Charles watched your slumbering form for a moment. He brushed a stray hair from your face, his fingertips lingering softly against your cheek. It's like you're his own sister or a child.

"Awake, sleeping beauty," Charles whispered, his voice a melodic invitation back to the waking world. You didn't even know what kind of person was really hiding behind that familiar gentleman mask for you. You didn't know the murderer of your brother's wife, and you didn't know the truth behind Richmond being away from you. Blissful ignorance. A lamb among a pack of wolves.