The Glass House
Calla’s POV
The morning after the vault, Zurich felt like a ghost town.
Cassian’s safehouse—an old stone villa tucked into the hills—was quiet. Too quiet. No birds. No traffic. Just the hush of paranoia pressing against the windows.
I stared out into the fog-blanketed vineyard beyond the patio, my hands wrapped around a mug of untouched tea. Every leaf on every vine looked like a secret I wasn’t ready to decode, not after last night.
The folder on the table beside me hadn’t moved. But I had. I’d gone from orphan to executive to heir in a matter of days. A title I didn’t ask for—a truth no one could unlearn. Every step I took forward now echoed like footsteps on glass. Fragile. Breakable. Loud.
Cassian joined me silently, sitting in the armchair across from mine. His l
