The Westwood penthouse perched above Havenport like a glass observatory, the city's lights twinkling below as if in celebration. Clara Morgan stood at the expansive window, scarf loosely draped, watching headlights trace the boulevard. The hush of the evening was broken by a soft knock behind her.
Liam Westwood entered, carrying two mugs of chamomile tea. He placed one in her hand, then leaned against the window frame. “You did well with Maya," he said quietly.
Clara took a careful sip, the warmth seeping into her chest. “She's intrigued but cautious. She'll need corroboration from Jared's logs." She traced a finger along the mug's rim. “Tonight was the first time I spoke publicly without the mask."
He studied her, concern and admiration mingling in his eyes. “You were… brave."
She met
