MIGUEL'S MANSION
Elizabeth walked down the stairs, her fingers lightly grazing the wooden railing. As she descended, her eyes landed on Miguel, standing near the entrance, casually dressed in dark jeans and a fitted gray shirt. He was adjusting his watch, his expression unreadable.
She frowned. It wasn’t often that Miguel dressed down, especially during the day. The way he checked his phone before slipping it into his pocket.
“Are you going out?” Elizabeth asked, halting on the last step.
Miguel barely glanced at her. “Yeah,” he said simply. “Not sure when I’ll be back.”
Elizabeth stepped closer, crossing her arms. “Where exactly are you going?”
His jaw tightened ever so slightly, and for a moment, he hesitated. “Just going to see a friend.”
Elizabeth's frown deepened. A friend?
M
