The penthouse is quiet when she walks in — too quiet. No footsteps, no rustling, no sound of him on the phone. Just stillness.

She barely has time to set her keys down before a hand slides around her waist from behind, firm and familiar, pulling her back against a solid chest.

“There you are, sweetheart.”

His voice is low, warm, relieved in a way he’d never admit out loud. He presses his forehead to the side of her head, breathing her in like he’s been holding his breath all day.