The first beep of the alarm went off long before Elara could truly fall asleep. The night had passed in fractured segments: half-sleep tossing and turning, long hours of staring blankly at the ceiling, and stretches where all she could hear was the pounding of her own heart, as if her body were entirely focused on the vibrations of fear.
The letter was still in the bottom drawer of the dresser. She hadn't looked at it again. But knowing it was there — that was enough. Like a timed memory someone had reactivated. It wasn't an attack. Not a physical threat. It was much more insidious. A reminder that no matter where she fled, no matter what she built around herself — Leonardo still believed he owned her.
Elara eventually got up. She moved slowly, deliberately, as if her body knew that if s
