Liam
I worked through the night.
That was not unusual.
The work had its own rhythms, and they rarely cared about office hours. Threat assessments. Executive protection cases. Corporate messes rich men created and then paid other people to call risk management.
I understood that kind of work.
This was different.
This was not a client file.
This was Leah.
I sat alone in my office long after the building went quiet, the old bank walls holding the silence the way they held everything else. Downstairs, the vault door stood open behind reception. A relic turned into architecture. A thing that had once meant control and now meant I owned the building my grandparents had believed was theirs forever.
Usually, that satisfied me.
Tonight, it did not.
Maeve’s letters were spread across my d
