Daniel’s POV

The penthouse is silent at two-seventeen in the morning.

I sit at my desk, surrounded by contracts and projections for the Crane merger, and I can’t focus on a single word. The numbers blur together, meaningless. Every calculation feels hollow.

Nathan’s been calling. I’ve been ignoring him.

Oliver sent another text yesterday: “Stop being an id!ot and fix this before it’s too late.”

Too late for what? The divorce is final. Amelia’s gone. I made my choice.

So ...