Catherina sat at the long dining table, her knife slicing through her steak with precise, calculated movements. The sound of silverware against porcelain filled the otherwise silent room. She didn’t glance up when she heard Henry enter, but the smirk curling at the corner of her lips gave away her amusement.
“I made dinner,” she said casually, taking a deliberate bite. “You should eat.”
Henry barely spared her a glance as he tossed his keys onto the counter. His jaw was tight, his movements rigid. He had spent the entire day chasing a ghost—trying to track down Thalia, only to find that she was gone. Vanished. No leads. No traces. No explanations.
But he knew.
Catherina had forced her out.
“Not hungry,” he muttered, raking a hand through his already disheveled hair.
Catherina let out
