Tiana’s POV
I sat rigidly on the edge of the silver velvet armchair, staring at the long, thin red box in my lap. Cleo had carried it inside like a live grenade, holding it by the very edges. The words on the tag – For my Tiana. Love from, Not Ben – were burned into my retinas.
The silence in the lounge was deafening, broken only by the muffled sounds of Henry and Harry playing upstairs.
"Open it," Mari urged, her voice trembling.
"Shouldn't we wait for the police?" I asked, hands shaking as my fingers hovered over the thick black satin ribbon.
"The police won't come out unless we know what’s inside," Cleo pointed out, her lawyer brain engaging as she paced the rug. "It could be a prank – or something worse. We need to know."
I took a steadying breath and lifted the lid. Inside, bedd
