Kael’s POV
I buttoned the collar of my freshly pressed black shirt, the fabric crisp and starched, rasping against my throat like a whispered warning. Morning light slanted through the window in sharp, golden blades, casting long, fractured reflections across the hardwood floor.
The mirror before me offered back a stranger; clean, composed, controlled, but hollow behind the eyes. A porcelain version of myself, pretending the world wasn’t crawling under my skin like a nest of fire ants.
I was slipping the tie around my neck, fingers moving automatically, when George barged in, unannounced, as usual.
He never knocks. Probably thinks the Alpha title gives me a permanent immunity to privacy.
“The nanny’s here,” he said, like it was a damn parade announcement. “The one for Abegail. And the
