The ride home from the cemetery was a masterclass in suffocating silence.
Victor drove his sleek black Mercedes with one hand resting casually on the steering wheel, his face a mask of solemn reflection for anyone looking through the tinted glass. I sat in the passenger seat, staring blankly at the rain streaking across the window
The moment the heavy iron gates of our estate closed behind us, the illusion shattered.
Victor parked the car, cut the engine, and let out a long, theatrical sigh. He didn't look at me. He simply unbuckled his seatbelt, pulled out his phone, and typed a quick message. A moment later, the front door of our sprawling mansion opened.