Corren’s POV
Friday morning arrived with the kind of clear, hard light that made the estate look untouchable.
I stood at the window of my private office before seven, coffee in hand, watching the security detail move along the inner perimeter. Raymond had doubled the rotations as instructed. Two extra men were stationed near the main gate. The west wing, where Ava’s rooms were located, had been quietly closed off from the main thoroughfare of the house. She would remain there until I decided otherwise. The thought of her—still marked from the night before, still learning the shape of the rules I had set—settled something restless inside me. That part of my life, at least, remained under control.
The rest of it was less obedient.
Marcus entered at 7:10 with the day’s file. “Mr. Ellison
