The ride home with Nate had been quiet.
Too quiet.
I pondered on a lot of things he said.
Weird.
And maybe that's why I felt so off when I finally stepped into the penthouse—
Because the moment I did—
Laughter.
My mother's laughter.
And then—
A voice I hadn't expected.
Elara.
I stopped.
Blinking.
Because there she was, sitting with my mother on the plush white couch, a glass of something sparkling in her hand, laughing like they were old friends.
I frowned.
Because something was off.
And then—
I noticed.
The clothes.
Not the usual ripped jeans, oversized hoodies, combat boots Elara.
No.
This?
This was different.
A fitted crop top, a high-waisted designer skirt, and heels.
Fucking heels.
Her hair was sleek, straigh
