The evening had settled into a stillness that felt deceptively calm. The kind of calm that lingered before a storm. Olivia leaned against the window of Lucas’s car, her eyes watching the blur of city lights as they drove through the streets. Her thoughts churned faster than the traffic outside.
The gala had ended hours ago, but the sharp words, the side-glances, the unnerving reminder of Emily’s presence lingered like smoke in her chest. She could still hear Emily’s mocking laugh echoing faintly in her ears, a haunting reminder that the woman had not been defeated—not yet.
Lucas’s hand reached over, brushing lightly against hers. “You’re quiet.” His tone wasn’t accusing, just observant. But there was something deeper beneath it—an unspoken concern.
Olivia turned, forcing a small smile.
