(Marco’s POV)
Marco sat in his car, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. The weight of the evening pressed down on him—the conversation with Sade, the way she walked away without looking back, the cold finality in her voice. He felt sick. He had ruined everything.
Without thinking, he pulled out his phone and sent a message.
Marco: We f****d up. We so f****d up. I want my family back.
He stared at the screen, waiting. No typing bubble appeared. No immediate reply. The silence gnawed at him. Then, his phone lit up—Incoming Call: Isla.
His breath hitched as he hesitated before answering. “Hey—”
A deep, furious voice cut him off.
"You motherfucker."
Marco’s stomach dropped. It wasn’t Isla. It was Shane.
"You talking about your family?" Shane spat. "You de
