The penthouse, once a sanctuary of shared purpose and hard-won intimacy, had become a tinderbox of silent tension. Sasha’s presence was a seismic shockwave that had left fissures in the very air they breathed. For three days, they existed in a state of suspended animation, waiting for the DNA results that everyone knew were a mere technicality.
Demetri had retreated into the impenetrable fortress of his own mind. He was polite, efficient, and utterly distant. He spent hours locked in his office, the low murmur of his voice through the door a constant reminder of the world he could still command, even as his personal one had been upended. He didn’t touch Nora. He didn’t seek her out. It was as if the vulnerability he had shown in the hospital had been sealed away behind a new, thicker wall
