Sunday morning at the Cross mansion was unusually busy.
Staff moved around quietly, polishing, arranging, restoring order like nothing had ever gone wrong.
Upstairs, Aria was dead asleep.
Knock.
Knock.
She groaned, rolled over, then dragged herself to the door and opened it halfway, hair a mess, eyes barely open.
“…What.”
“Freshen up,” Damian said calmly. “Let’s...