CALVIN'S POV
I stood in the middle of the penthouse living room, clutching the manila envelope like it might bite if I loosened my grip. The silence was suffocating. Not even the tick of a clock. Just the distant hum of the city bleeding through the glass walls, and the dread crawling up my spine like a slow, relentless parasite.
She was late. Of course she was.
Milly never arrived on time unless it served a purpose. She didn't do anything without reason. Every second she made me wait was deliberate—her way of asserting control. Her way of reminding me that no matter how many times I pushed, she would always push back harder. Colder.
And yet, even knowing that, a part of me hoped she would surprise me today. Be... human.
I was a fool.
The door clicked open with a slow, deliberate push. She entered like a storm disguised in silk: red lipstick too bright, heels too high for someone who claimed to be "fragile," and a coat the color of bruised wine.
