The Torres estate was silent—unnaturally so, as though the house itself were holding its breath.
Antonio had been gone three days. Another "development deal" in Singapore after he'd managed the Six Towers Deal. Another trip requiring his personal attention. Sabrina hadn't asked for details. She hadn't asked anything meaningful in years. The questions had dried up around the same time the pretense of ignorance became too exhausting to maintain.
Madison was at Peter's estate. Again. Her daughter drifted home only long enough to keep the fiction of residency alive. The rest of the time she belonged to that sprawling property on the hills—and to him.
The emptiness pressed in. Vast rooms echoed with absence. The silence wasn't peaceful; it was thick, expectant, almost predatory.
