Amelia’s POV

I sit at my desk at eleven-thirty PM, surrounded by documents that make my stomach turn.

The office is empty—everyone else went home hours ago. But I couldn’t leave. Not after Nathan’s warning. Not after seeing that photo of Daniel looking like he’s dying by inches.

I need to understand exactly what I’ve gotten myself into.

The Crane-Hartwell partnership agreement is dense legal language, but certain phrases jump out as I read.

Strategic coordination to exploit ...