"Yes. I was… out of my mind with grief. I shouldn't have pushed her. She’s family." I looked down, feigning shame. "I’d love to come. I want to make it right."
George studied me for a long moment, searching for the crack in my armor. When he didn't find one, he smiled—a smug, victorious smile.
"Good girl," he said, patting my head like a dog. "I knew you’d see reason."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out my phone.
"Get dressed. We leave in an hour. And Eliza? Don't make me regret giving this back."
He tossed the phone onto the bed and walked out, leaving the door unlocked.
I waited until his footsteps faded before I grabbed the phone. My hands were trembling, not with fear, but with adrenaline.
I turned it on. Dozens of missed calls from my mother, from friends I no longer trusted. I ignored them all.
There was only one message that mattered.
It was from a number saved simply as Nico.
I opened the text.
I’ll see you soon, future wife. Be ready for me.
I stood in the shadows of a marble pillar, invisible in my red dress, while George and Donna paraded through the center of the room.