"Her heels struck like gunshots."
Silver was still on the roof when she heard the door bang open behind her.
She turned, expecting Americus or maybe Maya coming to check on her. Instead, a woman in a tailored black coat stepped onto the roof, her designer heels clicking sharply against the concrete.
Silver's stomach dropped.
She knew that walk. Had heard it echo through ice rinks and hotel lobbies for years. Sharp. Precise. Each step deliberate and commanding.
Her mother.
Leona Sokolova looked exactly as Silver remembered. Perfectly styled blonde hair pulled back in a severe bun. Makeup flawless despite the five-hour drive from Boston. The kind of woman who made everyone around her stand straighter without saying a word.
Her heels struck like gunshots as she crossed the roof.
"Valentina." Her voice was cold. Clipped. The Russian accent that Silver had spent years trying to soften in her own speech. "What have you done?"
