After a sleepless night of tossing and turning, dreaming of every way I could throw Amelia and Harry off their carefully constructed tracks, I stand before the front door of their house—my mother's property, bought with her money.
My hand tightens on my burkin bag. The lobby is quiet, save for two expectant heads peeking from the corner: Desmond and Raiden. Desmond gives me a reassuring thumbs-up. Raiden... well, he looks like he's ready to kill someone. Perfect.
I inhale, exhale, and push the doors open. The house smells faintly of stale coffee and perfume, a prison masquerading as comfort. My mother's absence weighs heavily on me, but I force it down. This isn't the time to be vulnerable. Chin up. Straight spine. I stride toward the dining room as the faint sound of giggling finds my ears.
Then I turn the corner that leads into the room and—
