The morning light through the curtains was thin and useless—like an apology that meant nothing. I stared at it until my phone buzzed.
The name on the screen froze my blood. Andrew.
I’d buried that backup device, hoping denial could undo a monster. But monsters don’t vanish because you stop looking.
My hand trembled as I answered. “Hello.”
“Lia,” he purred—sunlight over razor blades. “You’ve been doing well in Milan. Almost proud of you.”
My stomach turned. “What do you want?”
“Oh, come now. You know what I’ve always wanted.”
“You asked for Kieth’s accounts. I’m working on it.”
“Working?” His laugh was sharp. “You’ve had weeks. You’ve had access to him—his time, his bed. You’ve played instead of delivering.”
“I can get it. Just give me more time.”
“Time,” he said softly, “is what
