Brielle POV
The silence of my apartment had grown teeth. It bit into every corner of my resolve as I stood by the window, arms folded, trying to will the city to be still for once. But even the skyline shimmered restlessly, like it knew the truth was starting to slip through cracks too long ignored.
Harry’s betrayal still echoed in my chest. I didn’t cry. I couldn’t. My body had gone beyond tears—it was cold, mechanical. A gear that had stopped turning.
Until my phone buzzed.
Robert Avanzini.
I stared at the name for a beat too long. He never called me directly. Emails? Yes. But a phone call? That meant urgency.
I answered.
“Miss Monroe,” his voice was sharp, decisive, and without any polite cushioning. “I need you at the office. Today.”
I straightened instinctively. “Of course.”
