Chapter 65

The days blurred together in a whirlwind of construction updates, sleep‐deprived sighs, and an ever‐persistent ping from Cassandra’s phone. Unlike before, the messages no longer stopped. Each time her device lit up, Thomas winced—harsh words, crude emojis, each more abrasive than the last. Eventually, he snapped it to silent, laying it face down on the counter so he could focus on the task at hand. He suspected that prying bastard on the other end knew exactly whose phone he held and was deliberately goading them—but that made no sense. Only he and Cassandra ever swapped devices.

Thomas couldn’t bring himself to read the onslaught of texts. Instead, he deleted them in rapid succession, fingertips brushing the screen like a surgeon cauterizing a wound. Cassandra didn’t suspect a thing. She believed her phone was safely in her own hands, untouched by anyone else. He preferred it that way—one less worry on his already overstretched mind.

Over the last few nights, sleep had