XAVIER’S POV
My phone buzzed against the coffee table, and Marco’s name lit up the screen. The second I answered, his voice came through fast, low, and laced with worry.
“Xavier, you need to go check on Melissa,” he said. “She’s… she’s not okay. I think she’s drunk.”
I froze mid-step, the weight of his words dropping like a stone in my stomach. “What do you mean drunk? What happened?”
There was a pause on his end, faint music and muffled chatter bleeding into the line. “I was just on a call with her. She didn't sound okay,” Marco explained. “She sounded—” he hesitated, “—like she’s about to make a hasty decision. I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn’t listen. You’re the only one she might still let in.”
I was already pacing, my grip on the phone tightening until my knuckles turned w
