(William’s POV)
The enticing scent of coffee drifting up from the kitchen downstairs felt less like a comfort and more like a judgment now.
I had no doubt Angela was the one who’d asked the butler to prepare it — a gesture meant to soothe, not scorch. But here we were, right in the study room, locked in a quiet standoff.
I wasn’t sure how to begin explaining what she had just heard. I should have come clean the moment I realized what I truly felt for her.
But each time, I convinced myself it would be unwise to say anything that might destroy the love we had built; a love I believed was not just born of a will’s clause, but of genuine care and affection.
Her fingers tightened around the closed laptop as she rose from the leather chair, her movements deliberate and unsettling, the kin
