Ruth's POV
I stepped out of the car, adjusting my jacket against the humid breeze sweeping through the streets of Bangkok. Davis & Co. Jewelry Company—my father's legacy, now mine—stood proud ahead, its glass façade catching the morning light. A deep breath steadied me as I prepared to face another demanding day.
"Ruth," a voice called out, low and familiar. My name hung in the air, almost tentative.
I froze, halfway to the front doors, then turned around slowly. Frank. Of course, it was Frank Kingsley, the one person I had absolutely no desire to see. His sharp eyes were fixed on me, and there was something unreadable in his expression—a mix of longing and determination.
"What are you doing here?" I asked curtly, gripping my bag a little tighter.
He moved closer, his shiny shoes clic
