The city woke under pale gold light, clean and sharp after a night of rain.
Willow stood by her window, coffee cooling in her hand, watching the street below fill with the rhythm of ordinary lives. The normalcy was almost insulting.
Her mind, however, was already elsewhere—reconstructing conversations, mapping intentions. Zane's voice still echoed through her thoughts: You are with me now. The confidence in it wasn't arrogance; it was belief. He believed the lie as if he'd built it himself.
She sipped the coffee, bitter and grounding.
Her phone vibrated on the counter. Zane Reyes: 7:20.
No greeting. No pretense. Just control disguised as logistics.
She typed a reply, paused, then deleted it. Let him think she'd seen it and chosen silence. Let him keep playing commander while she rewrote the map.
Across the counter, her work laptop blinked—an email from Malik. Excellent presentation. Star Engineering impressed. They want a follow-up meeting next week.
