Ryan’s POV
The morning had started quietly.
Too quietly.
Ryan had spent it pacing the balcony of his wing, a cup of untouched coffee cooling beside him. The city stretched beneath the Ashbrook estate like a glimmering sea, indifferent, remote. He hadn’t slept much. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Eve’s face the night she left: calm, resigned, full of something that looked too much like mercy.
He’d imagined a dozen ways to find her, news, whispers, miracles, but never this.
The sound of engines tore through the stillness.
Two black sedans rolled up the long driveway, their tinted windows glinting in the light. Ryan’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t expecting anyone.
Then he saw the men step out, uniformed officers, badges gleaming.
A cold dread coiled in his stomach.
“Mr. Ashbrook?”
