XAVIER’S POV

My phone buzzed against the coffee table, and Marco’s name lit up the screen. The second I answered, his voice came through fast, low, and laced with worry.

“Xavier, you need to go check on Melissa,” he said. “She’s… she’s not okay. I think she’s drunk.”

I froze mid-step, the weight of his words dropping like a stone in my stomach. “What do you mean drunk? What happened?”

There was a pause on his end, faint music and muffled chatter bleeding into ...