Elin’s POV

It was 10 a.m., the villa’s clock chiming softly, a gentle tap reminding me time was slipping away.

I set down my fashion magazine, rubbing my temples as I rose from the sofa. Wendy was supposed to arrive at 9, promising fresh company gossip last night to lift my spirits. But now, the entryway felt eerily silent, like an empty house. The staff bustled in the kitchen; Wendsor brought warm milk, but I shook my head. “I don’t want it. Where’s Wendy? Didn’t Erikson go ...