Hailey's POV
Janet Lut entered the penthouse the way some people entered rooms they had already decided belonged to them.
She didn't hesitate at the threshold.
She didn't even wait for permission. The door had barely finished sliding shut behind her before she was already moving forward, heels clicking against the marble with practiced confidence, her posture relaxed in a way that suggested familiarity rather than intrusion.
I watched her from the center of the living room, my spine straight, my expression smooth and distant—polished Norway ice.
I stayed exactly where I was—center of the living room, shoulders back, chin lifted, spine straight. The posture of a woman who knew her worth and intended to remind everyone else of it.
"Kingsley," she said lightly, lifting a h
