Elena’s POV
Tiffany’s heels clicked softly against the stone pavement as she turned on her heel and strutted away, leaving behind a silence so dense it felt like a physical weight pressing against my chest.
I stood frozen under the fine arts archway. My fingers were numb where I held my sketchbook, but I couldn't bring myself to move. My mind kept replaying that single, terrible sentence over and over until it tore through my chest like a rusty blade.
Elena is easy to manipulate.
Not a rescue. Not a sudden, protective spark born out of months of silent observation. Just a cold, calculated second phase in a game I hadn't even known I was playing.
Footsteps echoed down the walkway, heavy, steady, and unmistakable.
I lifted my head. Evan was walking toward me through the dusk, wearing h
