Ruby’s POV
By Wednesday morning, the penthouse had officially settled into a state of high-society cold war.
I sat at the head of the long mahogany dining table, the bright mid-week sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the pristine white porcelain plates before me. Betty moved silently around the space, pouring a fresh cup of green tea and setting down a small bowl of mixed berries and granola. The silence was heavy, but it was a silence I fully commanded.
Since Sunday afternoon, Alexander hadn't set foot inside the apartment. He had sent a brief, clinical text message late Sunday night stating he was staying over at James’s apartment. I had replied with a simple, detached 'Okay.' We hadn't spoken a single word since. I hadn't spiraled, I hadn't checked t
