Callie POV
The Voss family estate was quiet that afternoon, the kind of quiet money buys—thick carpets swallowing footsteps, crystal chandeliers catching sunlight in lazy sparkles, air scented with fresh lilies and expensive perfume. I lounged on the cream leather sofa in the sunroom, legs tucked beneath me, flipping through the latest Vogue. The pages smelled like ink and privilege. On the low glass tea table in front of me sat a tower of delicate desserts: macarons in pastel shades, chocolate truffles dusted with gold leaf, a slice of raspberry mille-feuille I hadn’t touched yet. Steam curled from my coffee cup, carrying notes of vanilla and caramel. Everything perfect. Controlled. Mine.
Until Nylah came barreling down the curved staircase like a storm in designer heels.
“Callie! Luca
