MasukAmelia’s POVWalking back into the Lancaster offices felt surreal. Like stepping into a life I’d already shed. The marble floors gleamed as cold and immaculate as ever, reflecting a version of me that no longer fit here. I tightened my grip on the folder in my hands—my resignation letter neatly tucked inside.This was it.No more late nights just to prove myself to a man who didn’t deserve my time and effort. No more unspoken tension.No more Rowan Lancaster.As I reached the top floor of the building, Lana looked up and immediately curled her lips into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes."Oh," she said, drawing the word out. "I thought Rowan gave you that ridiculously long leave. Back already? Let me guess—for some more boss-ass kissing?"Her tone dripped with false humor, barely masking the venom underneath.I stopped in front of her desk and met her gaze calmly. "Good morning, Lana."That alone seemed to irritate her.She scoffed. "Wow. Still people pleasing, huh? That must be exh
Amelia’s POVI was stunned. This man was effortlessly handsome, perfectly dressed, carrying himself with the kind of quiet confidence that came from knowing the world usually bent in his favor. Wealth, fame, influence clung to him like a second skin.And yet… he was looking at me.Not past me. Not through me.At me.As if I were the most interesting person in the room.God, why did this keep happening to me? First Tristan Lancaster, then Rowan, and now this guy.I glanced around the club. Everywhere I looked there were women who seemed sculpted rather than born. Models with legs that went on forever, actresses with faces so symmetrical it felt unfair, women who wore couture like it had been designed for them alone.And then there was me.Just… regular Amelia. Underdressed compared to all the others. Stubborn blonde curls that refused to stay perfect no matter how much effort I put into it.I swallowed and offered him a small, apologetic smile."I’m flattered," I said honestly, "but,
Amelia’s POVI hadn’t felt this hollow in years.The house was too quiet. No Liz’s laughter echoing from my phone. No buzzing messages. Just me, my thoughts, and the sharp certainty that I had somehow managed to burn down every bridge I’d ever stood on.Liz hated me. Gabriel was gone, back behind the safe professional distance I’d insisted on.Rowan—God, Rowan—was a labyrinth I no longer trusted myself to enter. And my work, the one thing that had always been mine, was still tangled up with his name.I lay on the couch staring at the ceiling, one arm draped dramatically over my eyes like a tragic Victorian heroine."Well done, Amelia," I muttered to myself. "Truly. A masterclass in self-destruction."Just then, my laptop chimed.I groaned, rolling onto my side. "If that’s another spam email, I swear—"But it wasn’t.Subject: Invitation – International Architecture Congress, MilanI blinked.Then I sat bolt upright.My heart began to pound as I opened it.Dear Ms. Hartwell,Following
Rowan’s POVSienna spun around so fast she nearly dropped the bottle in her hand."What does it look like?" she snapped, clutching it to her chest. "I’m taking care of our son."My eyes dropped to her hands. To the pills.Two bottles. One is already open. Small white tablets scattered in her palm as she hovered over the other container, clearly in the middle of transferring them.My blood went cold."What the hell are you doing?" I repeated, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her.Her fingers curled instinctively, hiding the pills. "I just told you.""Whatever this is, it’s not taking care of Liam," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "Put those down. Now."She lifted her chin. "You don’t get to tell me how to care for my own son. Not when you’re barely around.""I absolutely do," I shot back, closing the distance between us, "when it looks like you’re hurting him."Her eyes flashed. "Hurting him? Are you listening to yourself?""I’m watching you," I said sharply. "And I’m asking y
Sienna’s POVRowan came home so late I barely heard the front door click shut.Normally, even half-asleep, my body stayed attuned to his movements. The rhythm of his steps, the familiar sound of his keys dropped into the bowl by the door. I lay still in bed, eyes open in the dark, listening. Minutes passed. Then, the sound of soft clinking in the kitchen. I recognized the sound of his whisky bar. Seriously? Was he drinking right now?I waited a beat. Then another.Finally, I pushed myself up with an exaggerated sigh and swung my legs out of bed.I padded downstairs, rubbing my arms like I was chilled.I turned the corner into the kitchen just as Rowan was placing his phone facedown on the counter and downing a whisky in one gulp.He looked up when he heard me. "Sienna. I—sorry, did I wake you?""No," I lied smoothly. "I’ve been awake for hours. Can’t sleep. Might make myself some tea."He nodded, distracted. "Long day?""Mm," I hummed, already moving closer. That’s when I smelled i
Amelia’s POVWas he really saying no to me right now?I blinked up at Rowan, my brain lagging a half-second behind my ears. His face was so close. Yet not close enough. Definitely not close enough."W—what?" I stammered, gripping the front of his jacket like it might float away if I let go. "Why?"He sighed, that maddeningly controlled Rowan-sigh, and gently pried my fingers loose. "Because you’re drunk, Amelia.""I am not drunk," I protested immediately, even as the room tilted slightly to the left. I corrected by leaning more firmly into him. "I’m… celebratory."He caught my waist before I could topple over. "You just swayed.""That was intentional," I said solemnly. "Dancing. Very advanced technique."His lips twitched despite himself. "You’re adorable. Still no."I frowned. "You didn’t say that when you were kissing me.""That was before my brain re-engaged," he said calmly. "A tragic delay, really."I poked his chest with one finger. Missed slightly. Tried again. "Your brain is v




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