Jacob sat in the darkened living room long after Sharon had left, the sound of her suitcase wheels on the pavement fading into the distance. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the half-empty glass of bourbon on the coffee table. The once-pristine house now felt cavernous, a hollow shell that echoed with the silence Sharon left behind.
His phone vibrated on the table, breaking the stillness. He glanced at the screen: Russell Harper.
The name was a spark to his simmering rage. Jacob snatched up the phone, pressing it to his ear. "You have a lot of nerve, Harper."
Russell’s smooth, smug voice came through the line. "Jacob, I assume you’ve discovered our little… arrangement by now."
Jacob’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the phone tighter. "Arrangement? You think this
