The letter was crisp, the paper thick and expensive, embossed with a familiar crest that sent a shivers down Elara’s spine. It sat on the countertop, nestled amidst a basket of freshly picked lavender, mocking the tranquility she had so carefully cultivated at the Beaumont Estate. The visitor, a man named Mr. Dubois, had been polite, almost apologetic, but the message he delivered, folded neatly within the envelope, was anything but.