Amelia POV

The morning sun bled through the edges of the heavy curtains, warm light creeping over tangled sheets and the imprint of a body that no longer lay beside me.

Maxwell was gone.

The absence felt like ice water poured over my chest.

I sat up slowly, the soft cotton sheet slipping down to my waist. My body ached with the memory of last night—the weight of his touch, his whispered apology, the fire and tenderness we’d buried ourselves in. I pressed my palm against the empty space ...