8:30 PM. The Cross Mansion

Aria stormed through the front door, tossing her Chanel bag onto the foyer table with enough force to knock over a small vase. It didn’t break, but the clatter echoed sharply in the quiet apartment.

Damian was in the living room, nursing a tumbler of whiskey. He looked up, his expression unreadable, as Aria paced into the room, her heels striking the marble floor like hammers.

“She locked the door, Damian!” Aria exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “She actually locked the door in my face. Her own daughter!”

Damian set his glass down. “Your mother?”

“Yes! My mother!” Aria paced to the window and back,...