Gabriella’s P.O.V

The morning sun filtered through the tall glass windows, casting a golden hue on the breakfast table as I sat quietly, letting the maid place the phone in my hand. It was brand new, sleek, untouched, exactly what I needed. I unlocked it immediately, my fingers moving fast, scrolling through the feed until a very specific name popped up. Nathaniel Synclair. And just like that, the corners of my lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk.

“New phone?” my father ...