Amara’s POV
The morning air in the Wolfe mansion felt like a thin sheet of ice pressing against my skin.
I woke up early, the grey light of dawn barely filtering through the silver curtains of the guest wing. My stomach was in a knot, but it wasn't just the nausea this time—it was the weight of the secret I was carrying. One tiny life, five weeks old, and already it felt like the most dangerous thing in New York City.
I sat on the edge of the bed, resting my head in my hands. I had tried to tell Adrian last night, but the "Ice King" was too far gone, buried under mergers and stock prices. He wouldn’t even look at me. He saw a corporate spy where his child was growing.
"Today," I whispered to the empty room, my hand instinctively dropping to my stomach. "I’ll make him listen today."
I
