(Dre POV – Present Tense)

The penthouse is dark, except for the thin lines of streetlight spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I stand near the balcony, hands gripping the rail so tightly my knuckles whiten. The city below moves unaware, a living grid of light and motion, while my mind spins with things no one should ever have to carry alone.

I should be home. With Karen. Holding her, apologizing, begging for some fragment of forgiveness. But instead… I’m here. In Yasmin’s ...