Brad Hilton was calm.
On the surface.
He poured himself a glass of water, steady hands, eyes trained on the papers in front of him, pretending to be absorbed in a case file he’d already read twice. The TV in the background buzzed with morning news, a subtle, ambient hum. But his mind wasn’t on the deposition notes.
It was on Amelia.
And the way she’d walked in last night—with silence clinging to her like perfume.
She’d tried to slip past him, offering a tired smile and a soft “Long day,” before disappearing into the bedroom. But something in her eyes had shifted. Something he couldn’t quite place, but recognized all the same.
Distance.
He set the glass down and walked to the hallway, leaning against the doorframe as she sat at the vanity, brushing out her hair.
“You saw him yesterd
