Morning didn’t feel new.
It felt… resumed.
Emma stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the sleeve of her ivory blouse so it didn’t brush against the edge of her cast. The fabric was soft but structured, tucked neatly into high-waisted charcoal trousers that sharpened her silhouette. A fitted blazer rested over her shoulders—tailored, precise, powerful without trying too hard.
Her hair fell in loose waves, controlled but not stiff. Minimal jewelry. Clean lines.
Everything about her appearance said the same thing—
Untouchable. Functional. In control.
Even with the cast wrapped around her left leg, visible beneath the hem—
She didn’t look broken.
She looked… recalibrated.
The doorbell rang.
Emma frowned slightly.
Too early.
Too unexpected.
It rang again.
She walked over and ope
