CHAPTER 39

“I THINK IT'S ALREADY BEGUN.”

Inside a grand living room lined with gold-framed paintings and white curtains dancing from the early breeze, Mr. Carlos paced back and forth, phone clutched in his hand. His wife, Ciara, sat on the couch, legs crossed, sipping coffee with a worried expression.

“Still not picking up?” she asked softly.

“No,” he snapped, glaring at the screen. “It’s been hours, Ciara. Raymond never takes this long to respond. Never.”

Ciara set ...