Richard’s POV
The knock is too polite to be pack business. I know who it is before I even look up.
Brittany stands in the doorway alone, no Eleanor this time, clutching a designer coat around her like armor. Her eyes are red, she appeared to have been crying; perfectly practiced tears.
“Daddy,” she starts, her voice trembling. “Can we talk? Please?”
I lean back in my chair, arms crossed. “Make it quick.”
She steps inside, closes the door softly, then turns to me with that wounded-doe look she’s mastered since childhood.
“It’s about Emma.”
My jaw tightened. Just hearing my mate’s name in her mouth feels wrong.
“There’s something you need to know about her… We went to high school together. She… hated me. I was popular, she wasn’t. When she saw me on the yacht, she recognized me a
