The house was too quiet now.

Thomas’s had grown used to silence—after all, he’d lived with grief longer than most men live with hope. But this… this was different. This wasn’t the hollow ache of loss or the echo of a family torn apart by fate. This was the stillness that came with peace. With her.

She was in the kitchen, barefoot, humming something soft under her breath. The kind of sound that didn’t demand attention, only softened the edges of the room.

No guards. No gala. No Gotham clamor clawing at the windows.

Just a man, a home, and the woman who’d dared to step into the life of a ghost.

Thomas leaned against the doorway, watching her move. And for the first time in years, he let the stillness settle around him—like a heartbeat finally slowing down.