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I don’t care who gets hit.
Not anymore.
This isn’t about damage control. This isn’t about strategy.
This is about ending James. Ending Ryan.
Making sure nothing like this ever touches Amelia again.
I’d raze every one of their empires to the ground if it meant keeping her safe.
And I’ll burn my own damn world down in the process.
Without a second fucking thought.
Every contract. Every alliance. Every inch of reputation I’ve built.
None of it means shit if she’s not safe.
This isn’t about business anymore.
This is abouther.
Her music. Her name. Her quiet strength that they tried to shatter.
I will tear this world down and build her a kingdom from the fucking ashes.
They hurt the wrong woman.
They made her bleed. I’ll make them disappear.
Amelia arrives justafter eight thirty. And when my eyes land on her, I suck in a breath. Her eyes look like they’ve held a thousand sleepless thoughts. Red-rimmed, hollowed out by tears she didn’t bother hiding.
I still.
Not the kind of stillness that comes from peace. The kind that comes before disaster.
The second I see her face, I know.
She’s not here to rage. She’s not here to cry.
She’s already done that.
She’s come here to do something that will split her in half.
So, I take her in.
Every detail. Every line I already know by heart. Carving her into my memory.
The tiny freckle beneath her right brow, the one she covers with makeup most days but missed today.
The faint line beside her mouth—leftside, just there—that only shows when she’s holding something in.
Her hair that’s down, but not like she usually wears it. No gloss. No effortless shine.
And her hands—tight around the strap of her purse like she’s holding herself together with it.
I’m nowhere near fucking ready to let her go, but if this is goodbye, I want to remember her like this.