Theodora stepped into the apartment. She dropped her backpack to the floor and let her gaze sweep slowly across the chaos.
Everything breakable lay shattered, the wreckage covering the once-pristine space. Her expression, however, grew eerily calm.
Chez watched her from the sofa. For a fleeting moment, he was struck by the oppressive chill of looming death.
Then he scoffed, shaking off the unease. What could Theodora do? She was just a pretty face, a woman who used her looks to get by.
"Theodora," Chez barked, his voice cold and commanding, "I'm giving you one last chance. Go home and get on your knees to apologize to Mom and Tania!"
Theodora's face remained impassive, her cool beauty sharp enough to wound. Under the bright light, she looked like a rose blooming in the snow, stunningl
