Amelia’s POV

The Grind is a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop in a neighborhood neither Daniel nor his associates would ever visit. I arrive at six-fifty-five, scanning for Nathan, my nerves jangling.

He’s in the back corner, baseball cap pulled low, looking nothing like the polished CFO I remember from Sterling Holdings. He waves me over, and I weave through mismatched tables and college students hunched over laptops.

“Thanks for coming.” He stands briefly, awkward in a way he never was ...