The first thing Lucien did the next morning was cancel his schedule.
Every meeting. Every appearance. Every obligation that required him to be predictable.
The second thing he did was move Seraphina.
She didn’t argue when he told her. She didn’t ask where or how long. She only paused long enough to grab her coat and phone before following him out of the penthouse, her heels echoing softly against the marble floor.
“You’re relocating me,” she said calmly as they entered the private elevator.
“Yes.”
“Without asking.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes lifted to his. Not angry. Measuring. “Then this is worse than you’re letting on.”
Lucien didn’t deny it. “They know too much.”
The elevator doors closed, sealing them inside a narrow silence.
The safe house was understated—no visible guards, no luxury
