The front door closed with a muffled thud behind them.
The Jenkins estate, despite the grandness of its columns and chandeliers, felt too quiet.
The kind of silence that buzzed faintly in the ears—the kind that made every step echo louder than it should.
Rachel stepped out of her heels in the entryway without thinking, the soft rugs brushing her bare feet as she stood in the dim foyer.
Her eyes swept the familiar interior—marble floors, tall windows draped in velvet, the faint tick of the antique clock in the hallway.
Everything looked the same.
But nothing felt the same.
Logan hovered behind her, slipping his car keys back into his pocket. He didn't speak.
He just looked around—curious, but reserved. A man in another man's kingdom, careful not to overstep.
Cassandra walked past them quietly, her heels clicking against the tile, straight for the living room.
