The second morning of her enforced leave felt strange. Clara had grown used to the unrelenting rhythm of Wolfe Enterprises—the sharp hum of the elevators, the clipped voices echoing through the glass corridors, Nicholas’s looming presence always lingering somewhere in the air. Now her days stretched open, quiet and still, almost unsettling. Lily was doing better, sleeping longer and laughing more, and Clara had spent most of the morning folding laundry and reorganizing the little apartment that still didn’t quite feel like home.
A knock at the door startled her. She dried her hands on a dish towel and opened it to find Mato standing there, broad-shouldered as ever, a bag of groceries tucked under one arm.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he said with a crooked grin. “You didn’t think I’d stay
