Chapter 2 One

The rooftop was still and high above the noise of the city, wrapped in that quiet, golden hour light that made everything look softer than it really was. A cool breeze slipped between the taller buildings, brushing past my collar and tugging at the ends of my shirt. I stood there, drink in hand, staring out across the skyline like I was waiting for something. Or maybe stalling.

The half-empty glass of tequila sweated against my fingers, condensation dripping down in slow rivulets. I wasn't drunk, but I liked the heat it left in my chest. A good kind of burn. Familiar. Honest. At least more honest than most of what happened inside this house.

Then I heard her voice.

"I heard our father called for us, Neven."

The sound stopped my thoughts in their tracks. I turned, already knowing who it was, but still-there was that strange pause, like some part of me had to see it to believe it.

Anna.

She was standing near the stairwell door, arms crossed, one eyebrow slightly raised like she was trying not to smile too hard. The same posture, the same attitude. She looked like me, of course-we shared the same blood, the same carved-from-marble kind of beauty that our father liked to pretend we inherited from his side of the family. But there was more life in her than in me.

"Sister," I said, setting my glass down on the iron table beside me. "Welcome back."

I crossed the space between us and wrapped my arms around her. She hugged back without hesitation, her grip warm, tight, full of that chaotic affection only she knew how to give.

Her smile brightened as we pulled apart. That same damn smile. The one that used to get us out of trouble. The one that made people lower their guard around her, right before she did something reckless.

"Did you miss me that much, Nevvy?" she teased, eyes glinting with mischief.

I scoffed. "Nah. But this place is intolerably dull without you."

"Would it kill you to just admit you missed me, you idiot?" she laughed, giving me a soft punch in the arm.

"You're the one who vanished for half a year. Maybe I just got used to the silence."

She tilted her head, studying me. "Did you grow taller? No way you were this tall last time."

I smirked. "No, maybe you just shrank. The world's a little heavier when you're older, maybe it's pressing you down."

"Shut up." She shoved me again, but she was smiling. "Still a moron. I did miss you, though. Glad to be home, even if it's temporary."

"The feeling's mutual," I said, and meant it. "I'd tell you all the nonsense you missed, but I'd rather get the more important thing out of the way first."

She raised an eyebrow. "The meeting?"

I turned back to the table, grabbed the bottle of tequila, and poured her a glass. "Yeah. That."

She took the drink from me, fingers brushing mine, and sipped it slowly. Her eyes drifted out to the skyline. "Weird, isn't it? The old man doesn't usually bother unless it's about money. Or power. Or both."

"I've been trying to find a way out of this place," I said quietly, watching the way the sun glinted off the towers downtown. "I've laid the groundwork. Things are in motion. A few more weeks, maybe a couple months... I could be gone."

Anna let out a sharp laugh. "You've been saying that since we were nineteen, Neven. You're still here, drinking the same tequila, wearing the same silk shirts. You're not escaping. You're nesting."

"I'm biding my time," I replied, unbothered by the jab. "Every gilded cage still has a door."

"Maybe," she said, more to herself than to me. "But I get it. I've been making my own exits. Slowly. Quietly. This house-something's changed. It's like the walls listen now."

That caught my attention.

I turned to face her. "You felt it too?"

Anna nodded, sipping again, more thoughtful this time. "Yeah. Like something's coming. Something big. And not the good kind of big."

We let the silence stretch between us for a moment. The city lights began to twinkle on one by one, like the stars had given up and let the buildings do the job for them.

"So," I said finally. "What do you think the meeting's about?"

She shrugged. "Could be anything. Maybe he bought another company. Maybe he's marrying again. Maybe we have a half-brother in Prague we've never met. Honestly? I wouldn't be shocked if he told us he's dying and wants to leave everything to his favorite dog."

"That would be the most honest thing he's ever done."

"Exactly." She tilted her head toward me. "Don't dwell on it. Whatever it is, it won't be as groundbreaking as he thinks. You know how he likes to feel important."

"Fair enough," I said, refilling both our glasses. "Anyway-you coming to the gala tonight?"

"Of course," she said with a smirk. "I was thinking I'd wear that sexy teal dress, the one that makes rich men regret their marriages. Might cut my hair too. Wolf cut. Sharp, dangerous-just like me."

"You haven't changed," I said, smiling into my glass. "I'm glad."

She raised her drink in a mock toast. "To not changing."

I clinked mine against hers. "To survival."

And we drank.

The tequila was sharp, electric, biting its way down like truth on fire. We both laughed after, and just for a moment, it was like we were back on the coast again-just two siblings with too much money, too many secrets, and the illusion of time.

But it didn't last long.

Behind the laughter, the city kept moving. And somewhere below us, in one of the cold, dark chambers of this mansion, our father waited-with whatever secret he was finally ready to reveal.