Owen sat alone in the café for a long time after Abigail had gone, his fingers still tapping against the table. The smirk on his face had disappeared completely now, replaced by a look of simmering frustration.
He clenched his jaw, staring down at his phone as if expecting it to offer him answers. But no message came. No solution appeared.
She had walked away from him. Again. And this time, she had done it without fear, without hesitation. She was different now—stronger, sharper, and far more dangerous than before. And that made her a bigger threat than he had planned for.
Owen gritted his teeth.
He hadn't gotten the information he needed. In fact, Abigail had turned the conversation against him, stripped him of any leverage. If he returned to Penelope empty-handed again, she wouldn't just be disappointed—she'd make an example out of him. And knowing her, it wouldn't be subtle.
He remembered the last time she "handled" someone who failed her. That man had lost everything.
