Raya sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, the pale nude handbag beside her, Seraphina's phone resting in her palm. She stared at the screen for a long moment, thumb hovering.
It had only been a few hours since Adrian handed it over.
Now it felt like holding someone's soul.
She exhaled and unlocked it.
The home screen blinked to life—organized, clean, curated for someone who never wasted time. A folder labeled Personal sat in the top left. Raya opened it.
First came the photos.
Dozens, maybe hundreds. Most were magazine-polished: red carpets, charity balls, glittering events. Then came the more human ones—a blurry selfie in the back of a limo, fireworks exploding over water, a grainy beach shot.
Seraphina in sunglasses, surrounded by three laughing girls in bikinis, holding drinks with tiny umbrellas.
Raya swallowed.
Her fingers lingered on a photo of Seraphina on a lounge chair, sunlight in her eyes, smile unguarded.
She looked… happy.
And then Raya froze.
