Page 68 of A Violet Obsession

The clock.

It sits in the center of the packing table, the porcelain face staring up at me with its delicate painted numbers.

I reach for it.

The walls slide backward while the table stays too close, and the clock keeps getting heavier, and my hands are shaking now.

“Lily?”

Dawn is in the doorway.

Cream blouse, not a thread out of place. She looks at the clock in my hands. Then at my face. And her eyes go soft with sadness, which makes me feel guilty for some reason.

“I can explain.” The words come out too quiet. “I wasn’t going to steal it.”

“I don’t know if I can protect you from this.”

The clock slips another inch.

“Please don’t say that.” My voice breaks. “Please.”

“I tried.”

“I’ll fix it.” Tears stream down, and I can’t stop them. “Give me another chance.”

Pity folds across her face.

Pity is worse than anger. Anger means there’s something to push against. Fight. But pity means you aren’t worth it, and they’ve already decided they don’t want you.

The way the others didn’t.

The way no one ever will.

The clock jerks.

My grip fails.

For one impossible second, it hangs there between my hands and the floor.

Then it falls.

I scream myself awake.

25

FINN

The first thing I do after putting Lily to bed is set up the VPN. I drag a hand down my face, trying to scrub away the memory of her sleepy confession, but it clings to my brain.

There’s still no email from Sera with the security footage. Fine. I’ll work the robbery from another angle. The timing is too damn perfect—someone robbed the auction house the same night Lily was drugged. Were they trying to get her to leave early? Get her out of the way? Or had they meant to frame her all along?

Dawn would have been vetted by the police, so I start with Trevor Vale.

The man has an extensive digital footprint: forum posts, a personal blog, comment threads stretching back years. All of it obsessed with psilocybin and its therapeutic promise in rewiring trauma responses. There’s even a journal article, with Trevor Vale listed as a contributing author, on low-dose psilocybin for treatment-resistant PTSD.

It's still not a coincidence. I can feel it in my gut.

I open a fresh window.