Caleb stared at the cracked screen of his old phone, reading the line of text that had just popped up.
[Fiona: Caleb, maybe you don't remember me well, but I'm Fiona. I know you're in some kind of trouble… maybe I can help a little with my mom's connections…]
A thin smile crept under his black mask. Caleb didn't type back right away—he had no intention of replying quickly. He just sat there, letting that name—Fiona—echo in his head.
Maya's youngest daughter. The thought felt absurd and tempting at the same time. Caleb let out a short snort, eyes still glued to the screen.
"Your mom's connections? Funny. You don't even know you were born from the cunt of the woman who ruined my mother's life…"
He closed the phone and set it down on a table littered with ash and empty bottles. Instead of answering, Caleb leaned back, letting memories of the past bleed together with a creeping sense of curiosity.
