The morning light over Toronto was pale and cold, softening the frost that clung to the windows of the Ritz. Brianna stood near the glass, her breath steady though her thoughts refused to settle. The past days had unfolded beneath Jordan’s shadow, each moment shaped by his control, each silence deliberate and weighted. She had told her mother she was in Calgary. In truth, she had never left Ontario.
Behind her, Jordan adjusted the cuffs of his shirt with the quiet precision that defined everything he did. He glanced at her reflection in the window.
“You look unsettled,” he said.
“I am fine,” she replied. “I simply need to return home for a short while.”
He paused. “Home.”
“London,” she said quickly. “My own home.”
He examined her as though measuring the truth in every word. “For what
