The Debt Ledger
Ava woke to the sound of rain lashing the penthouse windows, gray light filtering through like a bad omen. Her body ached in places she didn't want to think about reminders of last night's gala, the limo, the bed. Lucian's side was empty, sheets cold. He was already gone or so she thought.
She padded to the kitchen in one of his discarded shirts, the fabric soft against her skin, smelling faintly of him. Coffee was brewing, automatic timer probably, but there was a leather-bound ledger on the marble island, propped open like an invitation. Or a trap.
Curiosity won. She flipped it closer.
The pages were filled with precise handwriting; she recognized the sharp loops on the L's. Columns of numbers, dates, calculations. At the top: DEBT LEDGER AVA HARPER.
Original Princip
