"She loved me so damn much..." Ian's words trailed off like smoke, as if some ghost memory clawed him silent. His eyes burned redder, body starting to quake like a fault line about to split.
Edward let out a sharp bark of a laugh, and the screen flickered alive with a fresh stack of files.
Front and center: Ian's wild scrawl, that looping signature he'd slapped on blank sheets. Now? Transformed into unbound papers, cold and final.
Tina's wound logs, enforcer filings stamped official. Receipts for every shiny trinket he'd ever pawned off on her—crystal heels, that rose-choked island— all clawed back, no strings.
Every dime he'd dropped on her? Repaid triple, funneled through "pack office gains." No debts owed.
"Three years bound, your pack's profits exploded a hundredfold. My lady's sq
