The walls felt closer that morning. Every breath Malia took seemed to bounce off them and come back heavier, tighter, suffocating. Kieth had barely spoken to her since the night before. He’d gone about his routine with quiet precision — coffee, jacket, phone — but the air between them had been razor-thin.
Now, hours later, she sat in the corner of his study pretending to go through paperwork while her hands shook just enough to make the papers rustle. Every few seconds she caught herself glancing toward his desk drawer — the one where she’d seen him slip her phone the night before after accusing her of lying.
Her stomach twisted. That phone was her only link to Andrew… and to Ivy.
She couldn’t risk asking for it back. Not when Kieth’s temper was simmering so close to the surface. Not wh
