Emilie’s POV:

The penthouse felt colder this morning, like the walls were holding their breath.

I stood in the kitchen, staring at the coffee maker as it gurgled, but my mind was somewhere else. The note I’d gotten yesterday

“Your father’s debts aren’t paid. Leave Milo, or he’ll pay the price” was still in my pocket, crumpled but heavy, like a stone dragging me down.

I hadn’t told Milo. His words from last night,

“Don’t lie to me, Emilie. I’ll find out,” echoed ...