New York City didn’t look the same anymore.

Not because it had changed but because Violet had.

The sun spilled over the skyline like melted gold, brushing across glass towers that once felt like cages. Now, they shimmered like promises. A city that used to echo with noise and loneliness now breathed in rhythm with her heartbeat. Every honk, every shout, every whisper of wind between skyscrapers felt alive like a pulse reminding her she was still here. Still living. Still healing.

It had been three weeks since the Cormac explosion. Three weeks since the light of Elena’s final message. And yet, every morning, Violet woke up with that same...