The shadows in the Enge penthouse seemed to stretch longer tonight, reaching out like dark fingers toward the center of the living room. Kai sat on the edge of the leather armchair, the silence of the apartment feeling like a taut wire ready to snap. He had felt the shift in the air the moment they returned from their quiet, yet stifling dinner. Every instinct honed over a decade of service to the Bowie family told him that the peace was an illusion. The surveillance camera in the wall clock was still there, a silent, unblinking eye recording their every move for Ethel’s amusement.
Elea was in the kitchen, her back to him as she prepared a pot of tea. The clink of porcelain was the only sound in the room, a domestic rhythm that felt increasingly alien. Kai watched her, his mind racing th
