Back at the villa, the atmosphere was suffocating.
The air itself felt cold, heavy, almost hostile as everyone remained seated in the sitting room. No one was willing to leave the couch. Every pair of eyes stayed fixed on the front door, silently hoping a familiar figure would walk through it.
That was all they wanted.
That was all they had been waiting for.
But the door never opened.
Night had already settled outside, swallowing the estate in darkness, yet no one even thought about sleeping. Harlan's body still hadn't been buried because Asher was nowhere to be found, and Cassandra refused to allow the funeral to take place when the person Harlan treasured most wasn't there to say goodbye.
"This shit is weird." Eliza finally snapped, shooting to her feet. "Something isn't right. I can feel it. Why is none of their lines reachable?"
Her eyes darted across the room, desperately searching for someone—anyone—to provide an explanation that would satisfy her racing mind.
