Jayden returned after midnight.
I knew without checking the time.
The penthouse carried his presence the way a storm carries pressure—silent, heavy, unavoidable. I was seated on the couch, knees drawn close, pretending to read a book I hadn’t turned the page of in over an hour.
He didn’t greet me.
Didn’t ask if I was awake.
Didn’t explain.
The sound of the door closing echoed softly through the space. I felt it more than I heard it.
He loosened his tie slowly, methodically, as if every movement was calculated to keep something contained. His jacket followed, draped neatly over the chair. He poured himself a drink, the clink of ice sharp in the quiet.
I waited.
That, I was learning, was how things worked with Jayden. He spoke when he decided the silence had done enough damage.
“Yo
