MasukThe drive back to the city was quieter than the one that had brought them to the lake house.Amy sat in the passenger seat, her hands folded loosely in her lap, staring through the window without really seeing anything. The city gradually replaced the quiet landscape outside, buildings rising higher, traffic becoming heavier, horns filling the spaces between thoughts. Yet none of it seemed capable of reaching her.Her mother's last words continued to echo in her mind.Don't trust your father.Amy had spent twenty-one years believing she understood the people who had raised her. Perhaps not perfectly, but enough to know where she stood with them. Her father was demanding. Her mother was difficult. Her grandfather had been stern but loving. That was the story she had carried with her.Now every memory seemed to have a question attached to it.She turned her face toward Zion.He was driving with both hands on the steering wheel, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed on the road."You haven't sai
The drive to the outskirts of the city was unusually quiet.Amy sat in the back seat beside Zion, her fingers intertwined with his while her father's car moved steadily through the thinning traffic. The city gradually gave way to quieter roads lined with trees, modest houses and stretches of undeveloped land.Nobody spoke for several minutes.Amy stared through the window, trying to prepare herself for what was coming.Her grandmother was alive.The woman whose funeral she had attended as a child—the woman whose death had been explained to her so many times that she had never questioned it—was alive.Somewhere.Waiting.
Amy stared at the rejection email on her laptop and laughed bitterly.“Unfortunately, we’ve decided to move forward with another candidate.”Again.She slammed the laptop shut and dropped back onto her couch with frustration.The apartment around her was small compared to the Armstrong mansion, but
I had walked into intimidating rooms before.Boardrooms filled with executives who thought they knew more than me.Meetings where my last name spoke before I did.But nothing prepared me for this.Zion Petrakis didn’t just sit behind his desk.He owned the space.The room was too quiet, too bright,
Nobody spoke when Zion Petrakis walked through the executive floor.Not because they weren’t allowed to.Because his presence demanded silence naturally.The sharp sound of his shoes echoed against the polished black floors as employees quickly moved out of his path.Some nodded respectfully.Others
Amy threw her heels across the room the second her bedroom door slammed shut behind her.One landed near the vanity.The other hit the wall.“Perfect,” she muttered bitterly.She loosened the collar of her blouse and stared at herself in the mirror.Calm face.Perfect hair.Controlled expression.Ex







