The morning after Ivy’s message, the world didn’t pause—it exploded.
Amelia hadn’t slept. Her thoughts had looped through worst-case scenarios until dawn painted the sky in defiant hues. As sunlight filtered through Sebastian’s penthouse, she sat cross-legged on the leather couch, scrolling through the files Ivy had risked her life to send.
She knew one thing for certain: Malcolm Wolfe would strike back.
And he wouldn’t hesitate.
Sebastian joined her in the quiet, two steaming cups of black coffee in hand. He handed her one and sat beside her.
“You don’t have to do this today,” he said gently. “Release the files slowly. Test the waters. Build—”
“I’m not here to play chess, Sebastian,” Amelia interrupted. “Wolfe plays dirty, and the only way to win against him is to hit fast, hard, an
