Alan cleared his throat carefully, the sound small but precise in the charged silence that followed the slammed door.
“Sir,” he said, adjusting his glasses as he turned toward Zayn, “what NDA is she referring to?”
Zayn exhaled sharply, irritation cutting through him like a blade. He dragged a hand through his hair, jaw tightening as if holding back an eruption.
“Something I will need to undo,” he replied coldly. “Otherwise, we will not sort out this mess. Not now. Not ever.” He turned on his heel. “Let’s go.”
They descended the stairs in silence, the echo of their footsteps unnervingly loud. Outside, the daylight felt harsh, intrusive. Zayn slid into the back seat of the car, posture rigid, eyes fixed on nothing as the door shut with a dull thud.
The engine had barely started when Al
