Sebastian didn’t sleep that night.
Not for lack of trying—he had closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around Isabelle, and let the rhythm of her breathing guide him into something that resembled calm. But the peace never lasted more than a few minutes. His brain kept looping back to the photos on Victoria’s file, to the threats veiled as options, to the way Isabelle’s eyes had stayed on his face after he told her the truth, searching for the man she’d decided to trust again.
By the time dawn broke across the skyline, his mind was a map of tactical moves and emotional landmines.
He made three calls before coffee. One to Nadia, his head of PR. One to legal. And one to the lead photographer he used only for family press.
By nine a.m., he was in the Grayson Group’s downtown tower, standing at
