The city skyline glimmered in the twilight, glass towers catching the last blush of the sun like polished wounds.
Sofia stepped out of the black SUV with a soft sigh, the buzz of the weekend still lingering in her chest. But the moment her heels touched the polished marble of the Ravenstrong mansion foyer, the warmth from Raymond's vacation house vanished like sea foam on concrete.
Silence greeted her. Not the comforting silence of solitude—but the sharp, suffocating kind that echoed off cold stone and colder stares.
Adam was in the living room, seated on the long leather couch, one arm thrown over the backrest, the other resting beside an untouched glass of whiskey. His expression didn't shift when she entered—just a blank, unreadable slate. The flickering light from the news screen cast shifting shadows across his face.
She hesitated in the doorway, her travel bag still in hand.
"Hi," she said quietly, voice fragile and unsure.
He didn't respond.
