AMELIA POV

I stand in the doorway of his study. The papers are clutched in my shaking hands. My knuckles are white against the manila folder, fingertips pressing small crescents into the cardstock.

It’s 2 AM. The city below is quiet. The penthouse feels too small for the anger building in my chest. Each breath comes shallow, quick.

“Daniel.”

My voice cuts through the silence. Sharp. Clear.

He appears in the hallway within seconds. Hair messy, eyes instantly alert. His chest rises and ...