I stood in the kitchen for a moment longer than necessary, staring at the pot I'd just finished washing. The plate of food I had just dished out. And then dropped the meal right back, probably Liora wouldn't have the appetite to eat now.
Then I forced myself to move. To go back upstairs.
When I reached the second floor and turned the corner, I saw him.
Dante was standing by the window at the end of the hallway, his phone pressed to his ear. The light from outside cast his profile in shadow.
"The fever's gone down," he said quietly. "Don't worry about it."
I stopped walking.
Don't worry about it…
He was talking to Sienna. Had to be. Who else would he be reassuring about Liora's fever at this hour?
And why would Sienna even care? What did my daughter mean to her except another piece
