The following evening, the penthouse dining room glowed under a low chandelier. A long mahogany table sat impeccably set: china etched with the Thorne crest, crystal glasses, and a simple centerpiece of hybrid windflowers—Olivia's prototype bloom. Alexander stood at one end in a dark suit, eyes flicking to the balcony beyond, where city lights twinkled like distant stars. Olivia entered, carrying a small leather portfolio, Leo's hairbrush tucked inside.
He rose as she approached. “Thank you for joining me." His voice was smooth, but tension undercut every syllable.
Olivia nodded, placing the portfolio on the table. “You wanted to review our progress."
He gestured to the chair opposite him. “Please." Leo was with Mrs. Ortega tonight. Their little boy deserved some normalcy.
She settled
