Mariana's POV
The rest of the morning passed uneventfully, though the cryptic phone call lingered in the back of my mind. By midday, I was sitting at the kitchen counter, absently stirring a cup of coffee as sunlight streamed through the tall windows. The villa was silent, save for the occasional rustle of the maids moving about. Summer had left after our tense exchange, but her parting glare had been enough to make me uneasy.
I replayed the call in my head for the tenth time, trying to decipher the warning. Be careful who you trust. The words sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. Was the caller referring to Amira and Summer? Or was it something—or someone—else entirely?
The villa's intercom buzzed, pulling me out of my thoughts. I rose, padding across the marble floor to answer it. "Yes?"
"Delivery for Ms. Marian," came a man's voice, crisp and professional.
"A delivery?" I repeated, frowning. "I wasn't expecting anything."
