Margaret arched a brow. "Let's hear it."
Fiona lowered her head, her voice slow and deliberate. "I know where Wendy might have gone. If you want to find her… I can lead the way."
George snapped his head toward her, his expression tangled with disbelief and something darker.
Fiona ignored him and continued, "She rented an apartment not long ago. I saw the lease, but didn't think much of it at the time. Now that I think about it… that must be her fallback. If she left the villa, she definitely went there."
She didn't reveal the exact location.
But she had seen the contract before—just dismissed it as unimportant.
Back then, it hadn't mattered.
Now, in this desperate moment, every forgotten detail surged back, and she clung to the one that could save her.
Margaret's pupils tightened slightly, a flicker of interest flashing in her eyes.
If they could find Wendy… Then food, supplies—everything—would no longer be a problem.
Maybe even that so-called storage space could be theirs.
