Olivia woke to a quiet room washed in early morning light, the kind that looks gentle but still manages to poke at the edges of your peace. The city hummed faintly beyond the tall glass windows, a low, distant reminder that the world kept moving even when she wanted more time. Inside the penthouse, though, everything felt perfectly still. Almost sacred. Almost unreal.
She reached across the bed instinctively, half-asleep, hoping her hand would brush warm skin or the familiar shape of Simon’s shoulder. Instead she found cool sheets and the hollow quiet of someone who had slipped away long before dawn.
On the pillow waited a single note in his precise handwriting.
My mother will pick you up. The driver is waiting. - S
Olivia stared at the message, her breath catching in that soft, uncert
