Enzo pov
As I pocketed Tiara's phone and the worn-out letter from her asshole father, a wave of frustration surged through me. What kind of man leaves behind such a letter for his own daughter? The whole situation felt wrong, twisted even, and I knew there was more to this story than what I had pieced together. I looked around Tiara's empty room one last time, the silence weighing on me heavily. I needed to leave. There wasn't anything else I could do here, at least for now.
I stepped outside, locking the door with the spare key Tiara had always kept hidden under the flower pot by her doorstep. It was a habit she never broke, despite my warnings about it being unsafe. I slid the key into my pocket and ran a hand through my hair, the stress building in my chest. I looked around her small garden—well-kept, but devoid of the life it used to have when she was always around. The flowers that once bloomed brightly now looked wilted, neglected.
