Kendrick
The private jet had landed smoothly, its tires meeting the tarmac with a low hum that resonated through the cabin. I sat back in my seat, watching as the airport personnel began their usual choreography of unloading bags and securing the jet.
Beside me, Kimberly remained quiet, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her gaze fixed on the window.
She was always so guarded, so wary. I could feel her tension like a tangible force in the air.
I wanted to tell her to relax, but I knew my words would fall on deaf ears. Instead, I stood and straightened my jacket, signaling Mr. Simpson to prepare the car waiting for us.
“Come on,” I said, my tone more neutral than usual. “We’re heading out.”
Kimberly rose slowly, her movements deliberate. She glanced at me briefly, her expression u
