Chapter 79 A Deal With The Devil

Genevieve stepped through the towering glass doors of Silas’s penthouse like a prisoner crossing a velvet-lined cell. The air inside was cool and sterile, reeking faintly of expensive cologne and something colder, detachment. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered an arrogant view of the city below, and yet, all she could see was the cage dressed as luxury. She moved like a phantom, her heels clicking against the polished marble floors. Behind her, two silent staff carried her suitcases to the guest wing, her request, her demand. “That room,” she had told Silas at the door, her voice calm but flat, “is not yours. Nor am I.”