Chapter 7 Jealousy And Possession

• Victor hadn’t come home in three days.
• The silence in the penthouse had become a living thing. Not peaceful. Not still. Just suffocating in its emptiness. It clung to the walls and pressed into the corners like smoke, curling under the doors and settling in her lungs.
• Ivy sat curled on the edge of the living room chaise, a book open across her lap. The pages were tilted toward the light, but her eyes had long since stopped reading. The words no longer made sense. They drifted in front of her, meaningless shapes and hollow dialogue.