Daniel’s POV
The traffic on Fifth Avenue is worse than usual when I see her.
“Sir, if we take the bridge route…” My driver, George, starts from the front seat.
“Wait.” The word comes out sharp. I lean forward, squinting through the tinted window. “Stop the car.”
George—been with me for six years—eases into the right lane. “Everything alright, Mr. Sterling?”
I don’t answer. Can’t answer. Because walking on the sidewalk, barely visible through the morning crowd, is Amelia.
She’s thinner. That’s the first thing I notice. The coat I remember fitting her perfectly now hangs loose on her frame, sleeves too long, shoulders drowning in fabric. Her hair—she cut it. From the long waves that used to spill across my pillows to something just above her shoulders. She looks different. Smaller some
