Silveria's phone started buzzing before the plane touched the ground.
She ignored it at first. She was watching the clouds go by, and Damien was across the aisle pretending to read a report, and the whole flight home had been wrapped in a soft, shy quiet. They hadn't talked about the dance. They hadn't talked about the doorway. But he had held her hand during takeoff, and she hadn't asked why, and he hadn't let go until the seatbelt sign went off.
Then the buzzing turned into a steady storm. Message after message. Missed calls from Sasha, six of them. A text from Adriana: *Call me. NOW.* A text from a number she didn't know: *Is it true?*
"Something's wrong," she said.
Damien looked up. His phone had begun buzzing too. He glanced at the screen, and his face went flat and cold in a way she knew well. It was his boardroom face.
"Felix," he said into the phone. "Send it to me."
A pause. He listened. His free hand tightened on the armrest.
