Rebecca POV

Triumph tasted like fine wine—sweet, intoxicating, and long overdue.

I leaned back in my chair, swirling the stem of my champagne glass as the city glittered beneath the penthouse balcony. From this height, everything looked small. Manageable. Just like Amelia.

The faint hum of soft jazz filled the room, mingling with the distant sounds of traffic below. I’d just gotten off the phone with Maxwell’s lawyer—another small but satisfying confirmation that the divorce ...