Isabella’s POV
The moment the door of Mia’s apartment clicked shut behind me, a shiver ran down my spine. Adrenaline still pulsed through my veins, a stubborn reminder that the encounter earlier had been anything but ordinary. I clutched the paper—the second address—tight in my hand. Proof of the trail, yet caution threaded through every thought.
The woman I’d met had seemed calm, composed, utterly in control. But her warning carried a weight that pressed against my chest: “Marie Leigh is a name you shouldn’t trust.”
The name lingered like smoke, intangible yet suffocating, teasing at the edges of memories I still couldn’t grasp. I sank into the living room sofa, the cushions absorbing tension I could no longer contain. Every detail from the apartment—the hallway, the faint scent of som
