Friday arrived the way bad deadlines always do… quietly, without announcement, slipping into the morning like it was just another day when it was very specifically not.
Mara woke early.
The room was still grey and the sun had not yet cleared the tree line. She lay on her back for a long moment, staring at the ceiling before she remembered what day it was.
Friday.
She sat up.
The letter was still folded inside the lining of her vanity drawer where she'd moved it two nights ago, because keeping it pressed against her ribs every time she left the room had started to feel like carrying something radioactive close to her skin.
Which, she supposed, it was.
Three million euros by Friday, or I take my congratulations to Bruno.
She didn't have three million euros… she didn't even have three hundred or thirty. All she had was a sealed envelope she'd given to Elena yesterday.
