The ride home with Nate had been quiet.

Too quiet.

I pondered on a lot of things he said.

Weird.

And maybe that’s why I felt so off when I finally stepped into the penthouse—

Because the moment I did—

Laughter.

My mother’s laughter.

And then—

A voice I hadn’t expected.

Elara.

I stopped.

Blinking.

Because there she was, sitting with my mother on the plush white couch, a glass of something sparkling in her hand, laughing like they were old friends.

I frowned.

Because something was off.

And then—

I noticed.

The clothes.

Not the usual ripped jeans, oversized hoodies, combat boots Elara.

No.

This?

This was different.

A...