Jason’s POV
The morning sunlight crept across my room in thin golden lines, warming the edges of the dark silk sheets tangled around my legs. My mansion was quiet, the kind of quiet that hummed with wealth, air too still, glass walls too clean, silence too heavy. From the top floor, I had a sweeping view of the city skyline: endless towers of glass and steel, pale mist rising from the streets below. This house, this glass fortress, was everything people expected of Jason Carter: expensive, spotless, untouchable.
But even here, shadows lingered.
The faint perfume of last night still clung to the air, sweet and sharp, tangled with the musky scent of champagne. The woman who had shared my bed had already slipped out before the world woke, heels in hand, lipstick smudged on the rim of a win
