Elena’s POV

The apartment is unusually quiet when I step inside, the kind of silence that amplifies every creak of the floorboards and the noise of the refrigerator, making the city outside feel distant and irrelevant. The late afternoon sunlight falls across the marble floors, cutting golden streaks through the living room, but my mind isn’t on the light. It’s on the Whitmore estate, on Cole, on the sharp edges of Isabella and Michael.

“Mommy!” Daniella’s voice rings out, with ...