AVA’S POV
The silence in the penthouse was no longer a sanctuary, it was a crime scene waiting for a detective to find the blood.
I stood in the center of the sprawling, open-concept living room, my heels digging into the plush cream carpet that probably cost more than my father’s entire house. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of Manhattan, a glittering empire of light and steel, but all I could see was my own reflection in the glass—pale, wide-eyed, and looking like a ghost in a designer cage.
The elevator chimed. The sound was sharp, clinical, and final.
Lucas was standing by the wet bar, his knuckles white as he gripped a crystal tumbler of scotch. He hadn't looked at me in twenty minutes. He hadn't spoken since the text from the lead auditor arrived. We were tw
