In the dim amber light of his study, Rafael Vexley sat perfectly still, his gaze locked on the security tablet before him. The bluish glow of the screen cast faint shadows across his chiseled features, sharpening the hard line of his jaw as his steel-gray eyes narrowed. There they were—Sarai and Bianca Monroe—lounging against a fire-red convertible at his gate as though they owned the place.
The late afternoon sun dipped low, gilding their silhouettes in liquid gold. To anyone else, they might've looked like guests arriving fashionably late for a summer party. But Rafael knew better. Uninvited. Unannounced. And judging by their smug expressions, entirely unbothered by either.
