I didn’t sleep that night.
I lay staring at my ceiling until three in the morning, Julian’s words looping on repeat. I know exactly why your engagement ended, and I know it wasn’t luck. By the time my alarm went off, I’d built and demolished a dozen theories, and none of them let me breathe easy.
I got to the office an hour early, hoping to steady myself before Lillian arrived with her theories and her phone full of screenshots. It didn’t work. My hands were still shaking around my coffee cup when my office door opened without a knock.
It wasn’t Lillian.
It was Julian.
He filled the doorway in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my car, one hand braced against the frame, looking entirely too comfortable for a man who had no reason to be in my office at eight in the morning.
