The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow over the penthouse’s living room. Ava sat curled on the couch, her sketchbook balanced on her knees, charcoal smudged across her fingers. The bracelet Liam had given her the night before lay discarded on the coffee table, its sapphires catching the light like a silent accusation. She had spent the last hour losing herself in her art, the only escape she had left.
The sound of the front door opening made her tense. She didn’t look up as Liam entered, his presence filling the space like a storm front. His footsteps were measured, controlled, but she could feel the weight of his gaze as he paused in the doorway.
“You’re up early,” he said, his voice low.
Ava didn’t glance at him, her focus remaining on the sketch taki
