Vincent's POV
I was getting ready to leave when my mother arrived.
The penthouse had been unusually quiet that morning. Camilla had left early, which meant I'd had the place to myself for the first time in days, no one monitoring my movements, no careful conversations waiting for me in the kitchen. I'd stood at the island finishing my coffee in the kind of silence that felt like something I hadn't realised I needed until I had it.
The private elevator opened and my mother walked into the living room carrying a designer bag over one arm and wearing a cream suit. She looked at me as she set her bag on the chair.
"You're dressed. Are you going somewhere?"
I looked down at the navy suit I'd chosen. It had felt right without me being able to explain why.
"I'm going out," I said.
"Where?"
