Eve’s POV
Eve sat at the small dining table in Kamila and Miter’s home, pushing scrambled eggs across her plate though her appetite had long fled. Morning light streamed through the curtains, golden and warm, but it couldn’t soften the weight she carried in her chest.
The events of the past days pressed on her like an invisible boulder. Her face, once hidden in anonymity, had flashed on the largest screen in Westwood with the word Wanted stamped across it. She still felt the sting of shame on her skin, the way her knees had buckled, the cold blackness of fainting in front of her adoptive family.
And then… Oliver.
Oliver Macintire, son of one of the wealthiest men in Westwood. Oliver, who had returned after the private booking, praising her food, refusing to believe anyone else in Rodri
