Victoria did not stay upstairs long.

Elena and Marcus were still standing in the living room when they heard her footsteps on the stairs again—controlled, deliberate, each one landing like she was counting them. She came down holding Elena’s phone.

Elena’s stomach dropped so hard she felt it in her knees. She had left the phone on her nightstand when she changed after campus. She had not locked it. The tracking apps were still open from that morning. The log entries sat in plain text. The private thread with Marcus—short, careful, but not careful enough—was one swipe away.

Victoria stopped at the bottom of the stairs and held the phone...