Amelia’s POV
I sit in the conference room at seven-fifteen AM, my coffee untouched, my stomach churning.
James Hartwell sits at the head of the table. To his right, three executives from Crane Enterprises—sharp suits, sharper expressions, watching me as though I am strange being. I don’t know their names. Didn’t know they’d be here.
This isn’t a meeting. It’s an interrogation.
“Thank you for coming early, Ms. Hart.” Hartwell’s voice is pleasant, but there’s steel underneath. “I wanted to discuss the Riverside project before the day gets away from us.”
“Of course.” I keep my voice steady, professional. “I’ve been reviewing the preliminary materials”
“We need more than preliminary materials.” One of the Crane executives—mid-forties, gray at the temples, cold eyes—leans forward. “We nee
