Desiree didn’t even pause before shoving open the office door. She was running on sheer determination, half-ready to demand answers from Roman, half-burning with questions she couldn’t keep bottled anymore.

But the moment she stepped inside, her steps faltered. Ivy Carlton was already there, sitting casually in one of the chairs like she owned the place. Her posture was perfect, her chin tilted, and her eyes gleamed with a sort of superiority that instantly made Desiree’s blood run ...