Amelia’s POV

Wednesday morning arrives like a sentencing.

Twenty-four hours until I sit across from Daniel Sterling and discuss market projections like we're colleagues. Like we didn't share a bed for three years. Like he didn't sign away our marriage within minutes.

I can't do this.

The thought hits me in the shower, under scalding water that does nothing to wash away the dread. I could quit. Just walk into Nathan's office, tender my resignation, disappear before Thursday ever comes.

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