Chapter 116 The Final Threat

Rain pressed against the windows like desperate fingertips, clawing to be let in. Genevieve sat at the marble island of the penthouse kitchen, her fingers trembling around a porcelain teacup. Her thoughts were far from the Earl Grey she didn’t sip. The apartment, usually warm and inviting with its rosewood floors and velvet drapes, now felt like a mausoleum, silent and watching. The envelope had been placed on the front doormat. No postage. No return address. Cream paper, black ink. One sentence. You’re still in danger.