Leonard came home in the dead of night, the staff all welcomed, their voices echoed, like a well liked machine, like a well practiced choir. The house had been too quiet in his absence; like the walls were holding their breath.
The guards spoke in clipped tones, the maids flitted in and out like ghosts, and no one dared say Leonard's name out loud unless absolutely necessary. But that silence shattered the moment the engine of his supercar purred through the gates. Skye didn't even mean to check, she knew he was around, everyone could tell.
She'd just been staring at her ceiling, tired but restless, chewing on the inside of her cheek. But the sound rolled through the stillness like thunder. She got out of bed and tiptoed to the window.
