(Fiona’s POV)
My mother stood at the door wearing a soft beige gown—the same one Dad bought her on their twenty-third anniversary. Her eyes softened with something close to sorrow as she looked at me, then shifted toward Jalen. She leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. I wasn’t surprised. She had always been that way.
“Pleasure to see you again, Jalen,” she greeted warmly.
He returned a polite smile.
My father stepped in behind her, his tie slightly loose, his expression calm and warm—nothing like the storm brewing inside my chest.
“Fiona?” my mother breathed, finally giving me her attention. “Sweetheart—what are you doing here?” She walked to the couch in the corner of Jalen’s office.
My mind scrambled for an answer. The question spun endlessly in my head. What was I doi
