Jessica noted the unwavering resolve in Lady Matilda's eyes and exhaled heavily. It was clear—there would be no changing of her mind. This time, she was trapped. Doomed. With no route for escape.
She rubbed her brow, frustration settling in her chest like heavy stones. Her mind spiraled back to the dinner table—those cold glares, the covert glances, the unspoken battles.
She felt herself descending deeper into a cellar of politics and power struggles, and there was no torch to light the way.
Silently, she walked toward Lady Matilda, crouched beside her, and gently took her wrist to check her pulse. She ran a quick series of observations—breathing, skin tone, response time. Each of them carefully done.
