The study in the penthouse was bathed in the dim glow of Liam’s desk lamp, the city lights outside casting long shadows across the room. Ava stood by the window, her fingers tracing the edge of her phone as she reread the message they had drafted to Claire Whitmore. The words were careful, deliberate—a trap disguised as an olive branch.
Liam leaned against his desk, his arms crossed, his gaze sharp as he watched her. “You’re having second thoughts.”
Ava didn’t look at him, her voice steady. “I’m thinking.”
Liam’s smirk was slow, but his eyes were serious. “About?”
Ava finally turned to face him, her fingers tightening around the phone. “What if this backfires? What if Claire sees through it?”
Liam’s voice was low, controlled. “Then we adapt. But she won’t.”
Ava’s breath hitched. “You
