Page 36 of Dark Embers

I drop into the nearest chair, clutching the marriage contract in my hand like it’s a lifeline and an anchor all at once. My world feels like it’s falling apart as the outer shell breaks open and all the skeletons of my past tumble out.

And it’s my fault.

All of it.

Because I didn’t see what was right in front of me. I didn’t see Judy’s pain. I didn’t see Sabrina’s strength.

And I lost two people who were important to me because of my short sightedness.

Syd doesn’t say anything more. She doesn’t need to.

Two hours and a bottle of vodka later, I’m slouched in my office chair, the room dark except for the muted glow of my desk lamp and the slow swirl of amber in my glass. Syd’s gone to get me something to eat—or maybe she just needed to get away from the epic fucking mess I’ve become.

The silence stretches, thick and heavy. Every now and then, I hear the echo of Sabrina’s voice in my head, like a ghost that refuses to fade.

Checkmate.

The word makes my jaw clench every time.

My phone buzzes, vibrating angrily across the polished desk. I ignore it at first, until it starts again—this time longer, more insistent. I glance down.

Unknown number.

I almost let it go to voicemail.

But something… something in my gut says answer it.

I pick up. “Mirochin,” I growl, my voice hoarse and scratchy from vodka and bad decisions.

“This is Sam Winters,” the voice snaps back, clipped and urgent.

My brow furrows. The name slices through the haze. “Who?”

“Sam Winters. We met briefly at Sabrina’s place the other night.”

I sit up straighter, the burn in my gut replaced by something colder. “The sugar daddy.”

“The what?” Sam’s voice spikes an octave. “Are you fucking mad?”

His outrage rattles through the speaker like a slap.

“Sabrina’s father was my best friend. Nikolas Vasilikis is practically my brother. I treasure my nuts too much to even think about going near that girl like that. She’s like a goddamn daughter to me!”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, already regretting the words.

“What an insane thing to say,” Sam hisses. “Maybe I made a mistake calling you for help.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out at first.

Because yeah… maybe he did.

But the second he says help—and it’s about her—the vodka haze vanishes like mist under fire.

“What’s going on?” I ask, voice dropping to something rougher. Sharper.

He exhales hard. “I picked up a distress signal from her building. Sabrina’s security system has been triggered and she’s not answering her phone.”

My stomach drops. “What kind of system?”

---