Melinda’s POV
I didn’t knock.
I used the elevator key he gave me weeks ago and let myself into the penthouse just after nine. The doorman didn’t stop me. The concierge looked away. Everyone knew who I was — and more importantly, who I used to be.
The moment the doors opened, I knew he was there.
Not by sound.
By presence.
It filled the space like fog.
James stood by the window, still dressed in the same crisp style that always made him look like he ruled the world, even when it was falling apart. But his posture was different now — not rigid. Not cold.
Just… tired.
Like me.
“Melinda,” he said without turning around.
I walked in. Quietly.
“You severed the partnership,” I said.
Still, he didn’t face me.
“I had to.”
“No,” I replied. “You didn’t. You chose to. And now half the c
