Emilia paced the foyer, her bare feet padding against the cool wooden floor. Her hands were clasped tightly, and her breath came in uneven waves. She cast a nervous glance toward Raymond, who leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, a picture of calm. But Emilia knew better. Beneath his stoic expression, Raymond was just as worried as she was.

“You need to sit down, Emilia,” Raymond said softly, his deep voice cutting through the silence.

“I can’t,” she snapped, then immediately softened her tone. “I’m sorry. I just… I can’t stop thinking about her. About what her father might be doing to her right now. She’s already been...