Morning came quietly, but the air in the King villa was anything but peaceful. The golden rays of dawn spilled through the tall windows, illuminating the large dining room with its glass table and pristine white chairs. Skylar sat at one end of the table, her gaze fixed on the untouched breakfast before her — scrambled eggs, toast, and a cup of warm milk she had no appetite for. Across from her, Logan King sat reading through his tablet, his expression impassive, his silence sharper than any word could be.
The only sounds in the room were the gentle clinking of his cutlery and the faint hum of the air conditioner. He hadn’t said a word to her since last night — not when they got home, not when they crossed paths in the hallway, and certainly not now. Skylar could feel the weight of his an
