Genevieve's POV
I retrieved my phone from where I had flung it across the floor earlier, pressing the power button until the screen blazed to life. The harsh glow cut through the dim morning light filtering past my curtains, making me squint against its accusatory brightness. My shoulder throbbed with each movement, a constant reminder of Father's violent outburst that had become a permanent ache in my bones.
My thumb moved through the contact list without focus until it landed on Julian's name. I paused, not from uncertainty about what I was going to do, but because I could already predict exactly how this conversation would unfold. Before I could second-guess myself, I tapped call.
The phone rang three times before he answered.
"Genevieve." His voice carried the gravelly edge of interrupted sleep and barely contained annoyance. "Are you aware of what hour it is?"
