Chapter 69

The knock echoes through the apartment like a gunshot.

Sharp. Deliberate.

My pulse stutters, but I don't move. I don't have to. Because I already know.

Victoria.

Michael leans against the counter, swirling his drink, but his smirk has faded. Lydia, on the other hand, is on her feet, arms crossed, jaw tight.

Another knock. Louder this time.

Lydia exhales sharply. "Do not open that door."

But it's too late.

The handle turns, and then, she steps inside.

Victoria Cardwell is as put-together as ever, her navy blue coat pristine, her blonde hair a sleek, elegant wave over one shoulder. Her heels click against the floor like a metronome, measured and controlled.

But there's something different.

She's not here to fight.

She's here to win.

Victoria glances at Lydia first, then Michael, before settling her gaze on me. She smiles.