“Don’t come late, O’Neal. Not today.”

That’s all he says before hanging up. No good morning. No softness. Just that.

~$~

I stare at my phone for a long time before I move.

The bruises on my ribs still throb, but I dress quickly anyway—tugging on something decent and presentable. Because if Reo’s voice is anything to go by, this isn’t about comfort. This is war-mode.

I barely eat. I don’t even have time to fix my face properly. Blue stays behind with the nanny today. He’s been extra clingy since the hospital. Like he can smell all the fear I keep trying to swallow.

Reo’s penthouse is standing like...