Hailey's POV
Kingsley's office had always been designed to intimidate.
Glass walls, dark wood. A desk so large it felt like a border rather than furniture. I had stood on the opposite side of it before as his fiancée, as his enemy, as his leverage. Now, I stood there as something else entirely.
The laptop sat between us, open and glowing, its light cutting through the low hush of the room. Outside the windows, Singapore sprawled beneath us, all steel and ambition and money. Inside, the air was tight enough to fracture.
I didn't speak right away.
I watched him read.
Kingsley didn't rush information. He absorbed it the way predators absorbed movement—still, alert, lethal. His eyes tracked line after line on the screen. Medical codes, prescriptions, dates. The quiet truth
