Logan
The photograph of the lemon cupcakes remained open on my phone long after Missy stopped replying.
Four cupcakes sat beneath a glass cover, each topped with pale yellow frosting and thin curls of lemon peel. The picture should not have held my attention.
It was ordinary.
Simple.
Nothing like the carefully staged photographs filling my social media feed. No expensive lighting. No polished brand placement. No luxury kitchen in the background.
Just cupcakes.
Yet I had looked at the photograph at least six times.
I leaned back against the sofa and took another drink.
The penthouse was quiet around me. The city lights stretched beyond the windows, reflecting faintly against the glass. Usually, I liked the silence. It made the place feel private, distant from reporters, teammates,
