Declan’s POV
The silence in the penthouse was suffocating. My father stood in the middle of the living room like he owned it, his expensive suit perfectly pressed, his posture rigid with the same unyielding authority he’d carried my entire life. Soraya stood beside me, her hand still loosely linked with mine, but I could feel her trembling. The weight of the mean words he had said to her still hung in the air like smoke after a fire.
I squeezed her hand once, then gently let go.
“Soraya,” I said softly, turning to her.
My voice was steadier than I felt.
“Go upstairs. Please. Let me talk to him alone.”
She looked up at me, eyes wide and uncertain. The vulnerability there, the same girl who had trusted me with herself last night, it sucks this was how the morning after had to look li
