Kurtis POV
As the car pulled up to the sprawling Jameson estate, an imposing mansion surrounded by manicured gardens and towering gates, I felt a familiar knot tighten in my chest. Lyra must have sensed it because she reached over, squeezing my hand.
“Ready to face the firing squad?” she asked, her tone light but her eyes full of concern.
“Not really,” I admitted, managing a weak smile. “But I don’t have much of a choice.”
The butler greeted us at the door with a stiff nod, ushering us inside. The cold, pristine hallways echoed with the sound of our footsteps as we made our way to the grand sitting room.
Grant was already there, leaning casually against the fireplace, his tailored suit immaculate, his expression smug. A drink swirled lazily in his hand as he glanced up at us.
