Nova didn’t drive straight home.
She parked three blocks away from the penthouse and walked the rest of the distance beneath the glow of broken streetlights. The night air was cold, but her skin burned, with secrets, with betrayal, with the fire of a mother’s voice echoing through time.
Every word in that letter was tattooed on her soul now.
You were born of love.
Your fire will burn the lies down someday.
But the fire needed fuel. And truth always came at a price.
When she slipped back into the penthouse, the lights were dim. Silent.
Except for the faint hum of jazz music drifting from the kitchen.
She found Liam there, barefoot in sweatpants, leaning against the counter with a glass of whiskey in hand.
“I thought you went for a walk,” he said, not looking at her.
Nova swallowed
