Callie’s POV
For twenty-four years of my life, my empathy had been my greatest vulnerability. It was a gaping, bleeding wound that people like Harper had continuously taken advantage of. I was the girl who always apologized first, the girl who gave away her last twenty dollars, the girl who would stand in front of four terrifying billionaires to protect a friend who claimed to be hurting.
But as I sat on the plush velvet sofa in the west parlor of Grimstone Hall, staring at the greedy, triumphant smirk twisting Harper’s flawless features, that bleeding wound suddenly, violently closed.
My empathy didn’t just evaporate. It crystallized. It hardened into an absolute, freezing ice that rivaled the CEO standing in the room next door.
“Hush money,” I repeated, my voice dropping to a terrify
