- SERAPHINE
The silence of the highlands was supposed to be "healing," but after forty-eight hours, it just felt like a slow-motion car crash. By the third day, I was climbing the walls. The finca was gorgeous, sure, but it was a gilded cage with better views. Every time I tried to corner Declan for a real conversation, he’d vanish into his "war room" or claim he had to check a perimeter sensor.
He was ghosting me in his own house.
"If you pace any harder, you’re going to wear a trench in the tiles," Arthur’s voice drifted from the doorway of the medical suite.
I stopped mid-stride and glared at him. My face felt tight, itchy, and heavy. "It's been seventy-two hours, Arthur. My brain is turning into mush. I’ve counted every olive tree in a five-mile radius. Just tell me we’re doing thi
