Chapter 33

• JAX
• The fine crystal wine glass feels fragile between my fingers as I take another sip, letting the rich burgundy coat my tongue while my mind churns through countless possibilities. It's been too long since I last heard from Aubrey, and the silence gnaws at me like a persistent wound.
• My mahogany dining table stretches before me, polished to mirror perfection and laden with tonight's feast—roasted duck with cherry glaze, winter vegetables that cost more than most families see in a month, bread still warm from the ovens. All of it tastes like ash while uncertainty eats away at my carefully constructed plans.