Simon Levi’s house was too quiet.

The kind of quiet that hummed in your ears, polished and expensive and wrong. Vivienne barely waited for the door to shut behind her before she strode into the living room, rage vibrating under her skin.

“Simon!” she called. “We need to talk—now.”

She stopped short.

Jessica was standing near the bar cart, calm as ever, tablet tucked under her arm. Hair perfect. Expression unreadable.

For a split second, Vivienne thought she was hallucinating.

“…What are you doing here?” Vivienne demanded.

Jessica turned slowly, eyebrow lifting. “Interesting. I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Vivienne scoffed. “Don’t get smart with me. Have...