Billie.
The next morning, fury simmered under my skin like a low boil that wouldn’t quit.
I channeled it into work. Laundry then breakfast. Coffee maker gurgled in the background, filling the kitchen with that rich scent. I moved on to making pancakes from scratch, bacon crisping in the pan, fresh orange juice squeezed by hand. Every flip of the spatula felt like a small act of control in a house that gave me none.
I carried everything out to the outdoor dining terrace. The morning sun poured over the estate, manicured lawns stretching to infinity, fountains. Wealth like this should feel beautiful. Instead it felt like a pretty cage.
I set the plates down just as the men arrived.
Leon took the head of the table in a crisp blue button-down, sleeves rolled to his forearms, Silas slid
