The next morning, just as the first hint of daylight crept in, Franco’s phone buzzed quietly. He opened his eyes right away.
Lying next to him, she was still asleep, tucked under his arm. She hadn’t moved much all night, totally out, peaceful and soft in his hold. He carefully slipped out of bed, making sure not to wake her, and stepped into the hallway before answering the call.
Hans sounded stressed on the other end. “Petty, sorry, something came up at my place yesterday…”
Franco cut him off, voice calm but sharp. “She’s still sleeping.”
There was a pause. Then Hans’s tone exploded. “Franco, are you out of your mind? Wasn’t it you who kicked her out of the White family in the first place?”
Franco’s answer was cool, almost cold. “I never kicked her out of the family.”
Hans scoffed, remembering the day Adelaide had died, and Franco hadn’t let Petty into the estate. “So, you’re just gonna play with words now?”
“What’s done is done. If you’re not going to claim her, just let her go.”
Franco stood in front of the terrace doors. Frost edged the glass and, for a second, it looked like the cold outside had found its way into his eyes too. “You’re barely keeping your own life together and you still have time to worry about hers? Maybe try minding your own business for once.”
His words landed heavy, each one hitting with a chilly undertone.
Hans just laughed. “You jealous or something? Between you and me, if we both fell in the water, she’d save me first. No question.”
A second later the call ended, the beeping in Franco’s ear leaving Hans fuming, his next insult stuck somewhere between his chest and his throat.
Franco went back to the bedroom. When he opened the door, Petty was already awake, sitting up in bed.
She must have just woken up. Her hair was still a mess, sleep clouded her eyes, and the way she blinked at him made her look like a sleepy little fox, all soft and slightly confused.
Franco’s hand paused on the doorknob, caught off guard for a split second.

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