*Aaron’s POV*

I leaned against the cool marble of the balustrade, my eyes locked on Roanne as she stared at Michael. The air was thick with the tension between them, an almost palpable static charge.

"It’s your birthday, Roanne," Michael said, his voice a practiced purr of affluence. "This party... It's fitting for someone as special as you. Why don’t you just enjoy it? Stop this."

"Thank you, Michael," she replied, though her words were edged with ...