## Hazel's POV
The morning light streamed through my apartment windows, but it did little to lift my spirits. Sebastian's silence had stretched into the second day, and I was done checking my phone like a lovesick teenager. If he wanted to play this childish game, let him.
I threw myself into work, sketching new designs with aggressive strokes of my pencil. Each line on the page helped channel my frustration into something productive. This was how I'd always coped—turning pain into creativity.
My phone rang, interrupting my creative fury. Not Sebastian. The screen displayed "Tanya Turner"—my stepmother. Just what I needed.
"What do you want?" I answered coldly.
"Is that any way to greet your mother?" Tanya's saccharine voice made my skin crawl.
"You've never been my mother," I said flatly. "What do you want?"
She sighed dramatically. "Your father is being released today."