Ayla
“Thank you for the ride, Professor Lurentz.”
The big umbrella in my hand was still dripping when I stood in front of the Corsetti mansion gates. He gave me a polite nod, his smile warm but distant.
“Take care, Miss Monroe. It’s the kind of night that could make anyone sick,” he said before rolling up the window and driving off, leaving behind a faint scent of coffee lingering in the air.
I took a deep breath. The damp air stung my nose, cold yet oddly calming. The rain hadn’t stopped completely—it fell in soft, silvery threads that gleamed under the garden lights along the stone path leading to the house.
Once inside my room, I plugged in my dead phone. The charging light blinked red—completely drained. My body felt heavy, exhausted. I turned on the water heater and slipped into
