Collins’ POV
We sit in the private room of a quiet, upscale café, waiting for the other party to arrive.
My client, Mark, shifts nervously in his seat, glancing around, clearly uncomfortable. I wonder why. Maybe it’s because he’s about to face the woman who gave him a solid beating.
I tap my fingers on the table, trying to keep my thoughts in check. Finally, the door swings open, and the other lawyer enters, followed by the woman.
At first, I think my eyes are playing tricks on me. Aria? After all these years of seeing her from a distance, here she is, just a few feet away. She doesn’t know me—of course, she doesn’t—but I’ve memorized every detail. And now, she’s looking at me for the first time. My heart pounds, and I grip the table, trying to steady myself.
What are the odds? Of all
