By the seventh day, Elliot's composure finally frayed past mending.
He dialed Margaret's number, only to hear the automated reply. "The number you have reached is no longer in service."
'Out of service? How? She's supposed to be at Duskmoon Villa.'
Without hesitating, he called his assistant and ordered an immediate check on Margaret at the estate.
Just then, Victoria drifted closer, her fingertips tracing idle patterns over his chest.
"What's troubling you, Elliot?" Her voice was soft, coaxing.
He pulled himself back to the moment, forcing down the rising dread, and absently ruffled her hair. "It's nothing. Just tired."
But the unease wouldn't fade.
Fragments of memory surfaced—locking Margaret in the villa, her insistence on signing the contract after him showed her around the ci
