Chapter 78 The Wedding That Wasn't Hers

• The sun had dipped low behind the trees, casting elongated shadows across the Tunde mansion. Evening crept in slowly, and with it came the kind of silence that wrapped itself tightly around the house—thick, oppressive, unwilling to be ignored.
• Zara had not come down since the confrontation. Her dinner tray, brought up by a housemaid hours ago, sat untouched on the nightstand. She remained curled on the rug in the corner of her room, the only source of light being the soft flicker of a bedside lamp that bathed the space in a golden, melancholic hue.
• Her phone buzzed.