Amelia’s POV
Wednesday morning arrives faster than usual.
Twenty-four hours until I sit across from Daniel Sterling and discuss market projections like we're colleagues. Like we didn't share a bed for three years. Like he didn't sign away our marriage within minutes.
I can't do this.
The thought hits me in the shower, under scalding water that does nothing to wash away the dread. I could quit. Just walk into Nathan's office, tender my resignation, disappear before Thursday ever comes.
Start over somewhere else. Again.
My phone buzzes on the bathroom counter. Harper: Breakfast? You've been ignoring me for three days and I'm staging an intervention.
Twenty minutes later, I'm sitting in our usual café watching Harper assault a croissant while I push eggs around my plate.
"You look lik
