Caleb’s P.O.V

I stormed into my father’s office, gripping the photo so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Damien was right behind me, his expression dark, his jaw clenched. My father barely looked up from his desk, flipping through some papers as if this wasn’t urgent—like this wasn’t about Aurora.

I slammed the photo down in front of him. “I have a bad feeling about this,” I said, my voice tight. “Look at them. Harmona and this man… They’re connected. And ...