The knock came with the precision of a man who never had to wait. Julia froze mid-step. Brandon looked up from the sink, drying his hands on a towel. A strange tension rippled through the air—something heavy, instinctive. When he opened the door, she understood why.
Mr. Hughes filled the doorway like an apparition from a world they’d both tried to forget. His suit was immaculate, shoes polished enough to catch the light. But it was his eyes—sharp, assessing, devoid of warmth—that made Julia’s pulse stutter.
“You came yourself,” Brandon said, voice steady but edged.
His father’s lips curved, not quite a smile. “You left me little choice.” His gaze drifted to Julia, deliberate and dismissive all at once.
“So this is the girl who tamed my son.”
Julia felt her spine stiffen. Tamed. As if
