Lady-sonia 17 10 27 Secretly Spying On His Aunt... ❲2026 Edition❳

Aunt Marguerite’s voice floated through the door, soft as a lullaby: “Don’t run, darling. We were all seventeen once. And every family needs a new keeper of the west wing.”

The room was a sanctuary of oddities. Canvases leaned against every wall—portraits of people Sonia did not recognize, landscapes of places that did not exist. In the center stood a gilded chair, and upon it sat Aunt Marguerite, but transformed.

Lady-Sonia checked her appearance one last time. At seventeen, ten months, and twenty-seven days old, she considered herself an adult trapped in a girl’s body. Her mother, the Dowager Viscountess, disagreed, which is why Sonia had been sent to stay with her eccentric Aunt Marguerite for the summer. Lady-Sonia 17 10 27 Secretly Spying On His Aunt...

Her own face.

Sonia crept closer, her bare feet silent on the runner. She pressed her eye to the crack. Aunt Marguerite’s voice floated through the door, soft

His face was beautiful and terrible—ageless, with eyes like black diamonds. He smiled, and it was not a kind smile.

A man stood at the window, his back to the door. He was tall, dressed in a coat the color of midnight, and he did not cast a reflection in the mirror beside him. When he spoke, his voice was like distant thunder. At seventeen, ten months, and twenty-seven days old,

Sonia’s blood turned to ice. The girl. She meant her.