Olivia Westview
The moment I made it upstairs, I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath. My room was dark, the faint glow from the streetlight outside barely cutting through the blinds. Everything was still, but inside my chest, my heart was a tangled mess of frustration, guilt, and… something else.
I wanted to scream, to cry again, but I couldn’t. I didn’t have the energy anymore. The argument with Dad, as predictable as it was, had drained what little strength I had left. I felt numb, exhausted beyond belief, like the world had been slowly closing in on me and there was no way out.
The image of that woman by James’s bed flashed across my mind again. Her hand stroking his hair, her voice soft, intimate. My stomach twisted, and I had to press a hand
