Elena's POV
I didn't knock.
The front door was already open, just barely—a careless mistake Amira never used to make. I pushed it wider and stepped inside.
Her townhouse was cold. Sleek. All glass and marble, like it had been designed to impress people she didn't even like. The silence was thick, laced with the kind of tension you feel right before something snaps.
I knew she was here. I could feel it.
Anna followed a few steps behind me, her hand already hovering near her bag—ready for anything.
"I'll search the study," she whispered.
I nodded and moved toward the hallway.
Each step felt heavier than the last. Like the walls themselves remembered all the things Amira and I used to be—best friends, business partners, sisters in ambition. We had built everything side by side.
And then she sold it. Sold me.
I found her in the living room, curled on the edge of the velvet couch like nothing was wrong.
