For a long moment, George said nothing. The weight of her words pressed down on him. Finally, he stood and turned toward the window, the skyline reflecting in his hollow gaze.

“I’m not broken,” he said softly, almost to himself. “Just tired. And maybe you should be too.”

But Mira only laughed, a sharp, bitter sound that echoed through the penthouse. “Tired? No, George. I’m awake now. Wide awake. And if you won’t do something about her… I will.”

George turned, alarm flickering in his eyes. “Mira, don’t start something you can’t finish.”

She smirked, stepping closer. “Who said I can’t finish it?”

Her voice softened. “She took everything from...