MADISON'S POV:
I knew something was catastrophically wrong the moment his face turned the color of old parchment.
Not just pale—ghostly. Like someone had drained every drop of blood from his veins and replaced it with milk.
At first, my cynical brain kicked in. This had to be theatrics. Maybe seeing that official document had triggered some kind of melodramatic breakdown, or this was his latest attempt to prove how unbearable my presence was.
"Okay, enough theatrics,” I muttered—but I couldn’t ignore the gnawing in my gut that something wasn’t right. Still, I stood my ground afraid to make a fool of myself like last time.
I picked at the chipped edge of my manicure like I wasn't tracking his every micro-expression from my peripheral vision. "You need to get ready. Your first appointme
