While Emma and Agnes had their thoughts on Matthew, he was miles away, racing down an empty road in his car.
The engine growled as he pushed the car to its limits, flying past streetlights like they were standing still.
Despite the speed, his grip on the steering wheel was relaxed, steady, the cigarette between his fingers burning slowly. In moments like this, alone with the dark night and the hum of the engine, Matthew dropped the charming façade. His face was cold, expressionless, and his blue eyes—usually warm and inviting—were now hard, like the depths of a frozen lake, silent and deadly.
The phone rang again. Without glancing at it, Matthew hit the reject button for the third time. When it rang yet again, he sighed, switched it to silent, and tossed it into the backseat, already do
