I swipe to answer. “Hey, kiddo.”
“Vi!” Ella’s voice is practically vibrating with excitement. “Okay, you are not going to believe this. I just found out about this huge competition—like, massive, life-changing huge. If I win, I could get another scholarship! Full ride, even extra stipends for research!”
I force a smile, my body still aching but my heart cracking just a little. “That’s amazing, Ella.”
“I know! It’s either debate or a science competition—I haven’t decided which to enter yet, but I have to choose soon. Either way, it’s a shot at something big. This could mean everything for me.”
My throat tightens. She’s already got Langport. She’s already on her way to the future I wanted for her. But she’s still chasing more, still striving. Still trying to make me proud.
“You’re going to crush it,” I tell her, my voice steady even as my chest aches. “They won’t know what hit them.”
Ella hesitates. “I know you’re working really hard, Vi.” Her voice softens, slipping past my defenses. “One day, I’m going to make all of this worth it for us.”
I close my eyes, swallowing against the lump forming in my throat. “You already have.”
She laughs, but I can hear the emotion in it. “I love you.”
“I love you too, El.” I hang up before the tears can spill over.
My fingers hover over my screen and I switch to my photos. Scrolling back, I land on one that makes my chest ache—a picture of Ella as a kid, curled up in an oversized sweater that nearly swallowed her whole, while watching me study like I was the most fascinating person in the world. She had fallen asleep that night, face pressed into the table, tiny hands still clutching her toy rabbit.
I exhale sharply. Enough nostalgia. I need a distraction.
Before I can think twice, I open my messages and fire off a text to Cami.
ME:Ella just called. She’s killing it at Langport. Meanwhile, I’m being held hostage in a billionaire’s penthouse.
CAMI:I’d say blink twice if you need help, but let’s be real. If I send Mav to rescue you, you’ll probably just end up in bed with him instead of escaping.
ME:Gag. Never say that again.
CAMI:Sorry, I forgot you’re too busy making bedroom eyes at the crime lord himself.
ME:I AM NOT.
CAMI:You totally are.
I scowl, shoving my phone away before I can type back something I’ll regret. I am not making bedroom eyes at Asher. I’m not doing anything with Asher. Images of all the things we have done so far, push through my mind. Ugh. Whatever. Breakfast. I need coffee and maybe something to throw at his smug face.
I force myself out of bed, groggy, unsteady, and aching in all the ways that should make me angry but don’t.
As I reach the top of the stairs, low voices catch my attention. Asher’s, calm and commanding, and someone else’s—one of his men, maybe. I pause, barelybreathing.
“It’s being handled,” the other man murmurs.
“Handled isn’t good enough. I want confirmation,” Asher replies, his voice edged with authority. “If it’s compromised, take care of it. Quietly. I don’t need a mess.”
A heavy pause.
“Understood, sir.”
Footsteps approach, and I quickly move, acting like I wasn’t just eavesdropping on something that sounds very much like a crime.
Asher steps into view in sweats and a fitted tee, completely unbothered, like he wasn’t just plotting something over coffee. His gaze flickers over me, amusement dancing in his expression. “You know, eavesdropping is rude, Violet.”
I cross my arms. “Then maybe don’t conduct your shady business in the hallway.”
His smirk is infuriating. “Duly noted.”
