Christian noticed the tension in her face but said nothing. He reminded himself—professional. Always professional.
He clenched the steering wheel lightly, but his eyes stayed on Mia’s reflection.
They pulled out of the lot.
But as they neared the school gate, Christian’s gaze locked on a car parked up ahead.
Black sedan. Chrome grille. Same model from that morning.
He leaned forward.
The license plate.
It carried a different number.
His hands gripped the wheel.
What the hell was going on?
Christian didn’t wait to confirm if it was the same license number from earlier or a tampered one. His instincts kicked in fast—he needed to see the face of whoever was behind the wheel. The moment the black sedan moved, he followed.
He didn’t speed recklessly, though. He kept a steady distance
