Natalya

I stare at Hermes from the corner of my eye as the Bentley glides through the city lights. He looks calm. My father said Hermes might already know about the plan—about everything—and yet here he is, sitting beside me as if I didn’t just deliberately shatter his phone minutes ago.

He didn’t even flinch. He just smiled that polite, unreadable smile, bent down, picked up the broken phone, and opened the car door for me like nothing happened.

That should be sincere… right? But ...