Vanessa’s POV

The penthouse was too quiet.

It wasn’t the elegant, soothing quiet that people imagined when they saw glossy magazine spreads or interviews that showcased “Vanessa Hart’s impeccable taste.”

This quiet had weight. It hurt and burned her chest. She doesn't like it.

The clock on the far wall ticked softly. Somewhere, water dripped from a faucet that's faulty and hadn’t been fixed. Every sound in the place reminded her that she was alone.

She had woken up late, ...