(Author’s POV)
The morning sun filtered softly through the curtains of Skylar mansion as breakfast came and went without incident. The clinking of cutlery, occasional small talk, and the comforting aroma of toast and brewed coffee filled the air, but nothing out of the ordinary happened at the table.
Asher, who had returned from a late-night shoot only hours ago, was still catching up on sleep. He’d slipped into the house quietly in the early morning, his footsteps light and deliberate, and had gone straight to his room without disturbing anyone.
Owen, despite the storm brewing inside him, maintained a composed exterior. He dressed neatly for work, exchanged a few words here and there, and left for his office with his usual air of calm efficiency. No one noticed the way his hands clench
